Meddling
by Athena13
Summary: Robin and Patrick's Point of View.
1. Robin

A/N: I have no idea where this idea came from. Kind of just woke up with it and it wouldn't let me go until I dashed it off. This is pretty much a first draft, so please forgive the lack of editing. Then again, since this is Robin's POV, it's not like she'd be editing her thoughts. At least at first. I'll probably follow this up with Patrick's POV, which was not planned but came to me once this piece was done. Hopefully, I'll be able to dash the next part off later today while it's still fresh. But it might not be until tomorrow. That is if ya'll don't think this sucks and I shouldn't bother ;-)

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Meddling - Robin (1/2)  
By Athena13  
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"Robin, I appreciate your concern, but this really isn't your business, despite my son's request." I've followed Noah from the nurse's station where he left his son standing shell-shocked and aching to the quiet of the small office he's been assigned for the duration of his work at GH, a stay that could be much shorter than it has to be, not just because he's chosen not to fight to live, but because he's pushing himself to the edge, just as he always has. The edge of greatness in surgery, the edge of greatness in love and the edge of utter destruction in the bottle. And now to the edge of death.

"I'd think since I dragged your ass out of that bar and brought you and your son here I have some privileges. So shut up and listen." I'm more than aware that I'm moving quickly into the emotional territory I had just told Noah and Patrick would not help the situation. That the man in front of me has suddenly ceased being Patrick's father, but another version of my own. Another member of the dead beat father's club Patrick insists we're both members of.

He is also the man that has left Patrick struggling to hold the pieces of his shattered heart together. The image of that strong man so pained lends an edge to my voice that Noah has never heard. I can see the surprise in his eyes as he leans back against the desk and drops the chart he was carrying onto its hard surface.

"Fine, this is me listening." He spreads his arms wide and dares me to take my best shot.

"You're being nothing but stubborn. Takes one to know one." Despite my best efforts, rage is starting to push through and decimate my own barriers.

"Robin, I'm protecting my son. No surgery is failsafe." His voice is a whispered plea. One I will not heed as my sense memory throws the waves of pain that I felt seeping from Patrick's body in at me once again.

I burn him with a censorious look that reminds him that he said he was listening. And to let him know that I, like his son, see deeper than his self-proclaimed selflessness. I confirm it with my words. "What you're doing to your son is consigning him to is living the rest of his life thinking that his father didn't love him enough to fight to live to be with him."

"But he'll be alive," Noah whispered, his voice cracking on the last word. I know he's thinking of his wife, of losing her on the table, of the horror of losing his son in what he sees as a selfish attempt to steal life from his son's body. I am temporarily mollified by it. It makes my next words softer than they might have otherwise been.

"The only certainty is that you'll be dead and you won't get to know what an incredible man he is and he won't get to know you. All he'll know is that when he lost both of his parents it was even worse because you didn't really die, you just didn't care enough about him to choose to be with him instead of your pain and the bottle."

Once again Noah has morphed into my own father, into Robert Scorpio, and the pain I feel is physical. I put my hand over my heart trying to ease the pressure. The only sounds I can hear are the beating of my own heart and Noah's rapid breaths. The din of the hospital outside this door has faded away.

"He might not recover from this, Noah. That incredible man with the gentle soul may forever stay hidden so he doesn't have to feel the pain you've caused him." Tears slide down my cheeks, but I don't attempt to censor them. I am giving all that I have to this. For Noah. For Patrick. For myself. "He may never have the love that you had with his mother because all he sees is how destructive it was, you may be the only one who can show him true beauty of love. You're his father, you owe him this."

The idea of Patrick never letting out the incredible man I've been blessed to see leaves me almost breathless. If I wasn't so focused on Noah I know that I would be terrified by the depth of emotion this causes me. Before me, I finally see that Noah is taking in what I have to say. He is hunched forward, unable to meet my eyes. Still, he says nothing, spurring me on. If I want him to agree to this fight so desperately, I can only imagine how Patrick feels. I'm suddenly amazed that he can remain standing. My own hand grasps at a chair so that I can remain upright.

"Life isn't worth living Noah if you don't have people to love you and people that you love." I would know. The last year, two, more, in Paris I was one of the walking dead. I just had a lot less fun than Patrick probably has. "Not fighting to live, not letting them fight for you is the worst thing you can do to love. To life."

The image of Patrick trying to haul me off into the elevator flashes before my eyes. I push the image away for later study.

"Fight to be with Patrick and let him fight to be with you. If nothing else, work until your dying breath to help him be at peace with your choice to leave him."

It is only through sheer determination that I do not collapse onto the floor and weep. I had no idea such grief was still inside me. I had no idea I could feel this much anymore.

"I let my father leave without saying what needed to be said, I may never see him again. Don't waste that time with your son."

At this Noah finally looks up, his own tears sliding down his cheeks and a well of sadness that matches my own shines in his eyes at me. Touches me, in my heart, as do his next words.

"My son is lucky to have you in his corner. I'm lucky." He stopps and swallows. "Tell my son I need to see him, to talk about my options to live."

My knees go weak and I drop my head for a moment sucking in air. Noah's decision to live is like I have finally decided to live myself. I look up, a tremulous smile curving my lips and lighting my face.

"I'll go get, Patrick and then I'll put you on the transplant list? Schedule the tests to see if you and Patrick are a match?"

"I can do all that, Robin."

"You shouldn't waste anymore time. That's advice I intend to take for myself." And it is.

I rush out of Noah's office back to the nurses' station, but Patrick is gone. I can't remember if he had surgery. If he does I'm afraid I might burst into the OR. I couldn't possibly wait that long.

"Have you seen Doctor Drake, Patrick, anywhere?" I ask the nurses on duty, barely conscious of their strange looks at my tear soaked face.

One of them points towards the waiting area where Patrick is sitting hunched over a chart. His pen is poised, but I can see as I hasten over to him that he's not writing anything.

"Patrick?" I am suddenly hesitant, shy of interrupting him. The room suddenly feels like the air has been sucked out. I can hardly catch my breath.

He looks up at me and his guarded eyes widen at the sight of me making me more than aware at just how horrible I must look. He stands up and grabs my arm. "What's wrong?"

"You're father wants to see you." I smile suddenly and with my free hand I grab at the lapel of his crisp, white doctor's coat. The one he looks so damned sexy in. And out of. "He's going to fight to live."

Before I know it I'm wrapped in Patrick's arms and he's spinning me around. I snake my arms around his neck to anchor myself. He stops spinning and he looks at me, our faces are finally at eye level, his relief and elation are evident in his expression. "Thank you, Robin. Thank you."

"He's doing it for you." I put my hands on his cheeks, framing his beautiful face. I need for him to know that his father is going to fight to live for him. Not for me. "He just needed a swift kick in the ass."

"You certainly know how to deliver those, Doctor Scorpio."

My heart flutters as he bites his lips and his eyes narrow seductively. His eyes lashes are gorgeous. I never saw that before from my usually lower vantage point. Before I can chicken out I press my lips to his, I feel his lips open and a gasp of surprise blows into my mouth. His arms tighten around my waist as I slide my tongue into his mouth and confirm that he does indeed taste like heaven and coming home all rolled up into one. This was exactly what I was afraid of and can no longer be bothered to resist. The split second of shock passes and Patrick is right there with me returning the long sensuous kiss I've started.

We're both breathing heavily by the time we both pull back to look at each other in delighted surprise at the turn of events.

"What was that for?" he asks, his voice rough with desire and repressed tears. These moments have been long ones for him. Again, I am awestruck that he manages to hold his ground. If he wasn't holding me up I'd be a puddle at his feet and no one has ever called me weak-willed. No one credible, anyway.

"That's called not wasting time. Have dinner with me."

"Okay." Patrick blinks quickly a couple of times. I'm pleased to have finally shocked Patrick Drake senseless. Then I remember his father.

"Go see, Noah. I'm going to put his name on the transplant list and arrange for your tests to see if you're a match."

Patrick lets out a sigh and presses his forehead against mine. I love that he hasn't let me go yet, though I urgently want to dash to the transplant wing and get things underway.

"How can I ever thank you?" he whispers.

The thought that crosses my mind is one that I can't share with him. I can barely hear it without wanting to flee myself. Out loud I say something to lighten the dangerous tension between us before I just wrap my legs around his waist and never let him go. "Pay for dinner."

As I planned he chuckles and pulls his head back and begins to loosen his hold, planting me back down on the ground.

"Go see him. I'll come find you when I'm done."

Patrick's eyes are still locked with mine and I can see that he is just letting us both off the hook.

"Go." Now. Before I say something completely ridiculous.

Like I've fallen in love with you Patrick Drake.

I could swear I see something in his eyes before he backs up a step and picks up the chart he had been pretending to study just five minutes ago. Was it really only five minutes? As the news of his father's change of heart seeps back into his consciousness his lips curve into a joyous smile that takes my breath away, he dips his head at me. "Seven o'clock," he says before turning to go see Noah.

I let out the breath I didn't even realize I was holding and head towards the transplant wing. I'm wondering if what I saw was merely gratitude or if Patrick Drake could feel the same way about me that I had refused before now to admit I felt for him.


	2. Patrick

A/N: Thanks everyone for the fantastic feedback on this story. I feel like I finally found my proverbial feet in scrubsfic. I hope I do justice to Patrick here. I may just follow this up somehow if I'm still inspired.

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Meddling – Patrick (2/2)  
By Athena13  
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"Doctor Drake?"

I don't know how long it's been since Robin walked off in hot pursuit of my father following our all too public bout regarding his health. Nor do I know how long it's been that this nurse has been trying to get my attention. From the look on her face it seems like she's called my name more than once. I turn to look at her, pretending I had been concentrating so hard on the file in my hands.

"Yes, um." I'm fumbling and glance at her name tag. "Nurse Anderson." I flash a smile so she doesn't catch on that I've forgotten her name even though we've actually gotten together for coffee a couple of months ago. Or maybe it was lunch just a few weeks ago. Could have been dinner last week for all I know. I can hardly track the passage of time since the quarantine broke out when things both sped up and slowed down all at the same time.

"Doctor Talbert called and said that he's had to reschedule his patient's consultation to next Tuesday at three. I put it into your schedule," she informs me, a flirtatious gleam in her pretty green eyes. My eyes flick over her tall, curvy figure and my smile widens as my aggravation abates for the moment. Then I sigh inwardly because, beyond the momentarily visual enjoyment, I can't muster up an ounce of desire for the obviously available Nurse Anderson with the forgotten first name.

"Thank you, Nurse." I drop the chart for Talbert's patient back into the upcoming appointment slot and grab the file with the notes Robin had waiting for me this morning. As I walk over to the couches in the waiting room I can feel the knot of anger in my stomach tightening as I again realize that the minute I left the hospital to get some much needed sleep Robin was charming Doctor Quatermaine into releasing her and going right back to work in direct contravention of my medical opinion that she stay in bed for at least another day.

I grab a pen out of my pocket and open up the file to see whether we're going to have to have a satisfying battle of drug protocol versus surgery, but I can't keep my concentration on the page when I see her handwriting. I close my eyes and lean back on the couch and tilt my head back.

I know I didn't sleep as long or as deeply as I needed last night and it's making me short-tempered. There had been too many dreams waking me up throughout the night. Dreams of getting to Doctor Jones' room too late, dreams of critically ill patients begging me to save them, dreams of my father's funeral, dreams of Robin collapsing in the locker room and never waking up. But it was the dream of lying on the beach with a very much alive Robin Scorpio that drove me from my bed and to the hospital hours before I needed to be here. I was more than eager to see her and bask in the open admiration she had been showering me with since she fell ill.

My eagerness went to hell when I got here only to find her room empty and her notes waiting for me on this case we had started together before the quarantine. I didn't know whether to be furious she was already pushing herself so hard or relieved that she was still around to work on it with me. Fortunately, I didn't have to really decide because in came my father looking even more haggard and ill than he did before and obviously in pain. And still turning his back on me as much as he ever had.

I want to hate him. In fact, I do hate him. But there's no denying that I also love him and want more than anything for him to stop with his selfish death wish. Robin keeps telling me that unlike her father mine is actually sticking around, except he isn't. He's letting himself die and a slow, painful death right before my eyes. He says it's for me, but I know that as always it's for him. His shot to be noble, his chance to join my mother in the afterlife, if there's even such a thing. Why can't he see that there's more work for him to do here, not the least of which is living up to what my mother used to believe about him – that he was a fine doctor who saved lives and a loving father? Why can't I make him see all that I see so clearly?

Enough of this! I open my eyes and look down at the file in my lap. If I continue to think about this I'm going to go storming down the hall to my father's office and ruin whatever progress Robin might actually be making with him. If anyone could get through to him, it's her. Before it really pissed me off. Pissed me off that she got him out of that bar and back to this hospital. That he sent her to get me. Now, I'm just grateful that for whatever reason she's our intermediary. Despite my hopeless rage it didn't escape my notice that my father looked at Robin several times while he railed at me his crap about his so-called decision; he looked at her but didn't order her to butt out. Not like he did Carly or just about everyone else who has tried to change his mind, including Bobbie and Monica. It gave me hope that maybe she could get through to him again this time. Now, I would just be grateful someone could.

"Patrick?" Robin's shaky voice catches my attention and I turn to face her. My heart arrests as the sight of her tears and I grab her demanding to know what's wrong. Is she ill again? Has something happened with her father or mine?

When she tells me that she's gotten through to him I am filled with an elation that I haven't felt, well, ever. I grab her and spin her around. I don't even think to question why she's crying, it just seems right. I stop spinning, desperate to see her beautiful brown eyes, to thank her for this miracle. I know without a doubt that everything will be all right and it's all because of this petite beauty I am holding in my arms. Against my body. For the first time in our acquaintance I don't have to lean down to try to see inside her and it's incredibly arousing.

"Thank you, Robin. Thank you." Before I can decide what to do next her strong, warm hands are cupping my face and she's telling me that my father has decided to live for me. I don't know which action makes me lose my breath more.

"He just needed a swift kick in the ass."

Her words make me want to laugh and spin her around again, but I am strangely frozen in place, drowning in her eyes, in the feel of her body against mine. "You certainly know how to deliver those, Doctor Scorpio." Can she hear how shaky my voice is? I bite my lip as a wave of desire so strong sweeps through my body. I want to lay her down on the couch that's biting into my shins and love her all over, again and again. I could put her down, let her feet rest on the couch, but I can't let her go. I'm expecting her to quietly extricate herself from our unaccustomed closeness and send me on my way like a good little boy to see my father any second and I refuse to deny myself the feel of her while I still have it.

Before I recognize it I see a sparkle in her gorgeous eyes and then her lips on mine, her tongue in my mouth and little noises of desire are escaping her throat as she feasts on our kiss. I'm blown away. I'm dragged down and catapulted into the sky. My body is rocketing with more sensations than I've ever felt at one time before. I don't know how I can still be standing. I don't know how I can be anywhere but lost in this woman. I don't know how I've lived this long without her kiss. I don't know how in the world we stop the slow, sensual slide of lips and tongue. I don't know how either of us are still wearing clothes or haven't burst into flames right on the spot.

We're both breathing heavily by the time we both pull back to look at each other in delighted surprise at the turn of events.

"What was that for?" I ask when I can finally muster up enough neurotransmitters to make myself speak.

"That's called not wasting time. Have dinner with me."

Just when I think she's couldn't surprise me anymore she goes and does it. All my suave lines are gone and I can barely squeak out some sort of assent to the proposition.

"Go see, Noah. I'm going to put his name on the transplant list and arrange for your tests to see if you're a match."

She unmans me and makes me feel like more of a man than I've ever felt. My throat and eyes are coated in tears at her generosity. I press my forehead against hers, trying to compose myself. I want to go see him, I do, I just don't want to let her go. What if the moment I do she's gone again? Back behind that wall I've beat my head against more times than I can count?

My father is going to live, I remember and above it all that's the most important thing right now. Robin's wall can and will be dealt with if it ever dares to keep me from her again.

"How can I ever thank you?"

My father is going to live. Because of this woman. Does she have any idea what she's given me? Yeah, she probably does, I think as I remember the tears she let me see after her own father left just the day before.

"Pay for dinner."

I tilt my head back at her words and study her. She's trying to lighten the moment. I can see that she's drowning just as surely as I am. I am amazed and touched that she's still letting me see her so intimately. That's when I finally realize where we are, and it's definitely not private enough for moments like this. Reluctantly, I let her down.

"Go see him. I'll come find you when I'm done."

I search for something to say, but I'm too afraid if I speak something I can never take back will come out.

"Go."

Something in her expression makes my heart ache, but there's nothing I can do right now but see my father. "Seven o'clock." I am going to show Robin Scorpio the time of her life tonight. I smile and lick my lips. I feel like the weight of the world has finally slipped off my shoulders and I grab the file we're working on together and go to see my father. Maybe now that he's decided to live he can tell me how the hell a player like him landed a woman like my mother.


	3. Robin 2

A/N: Thanks for the wonderful feedback. Okay, I've changed my mind. I'm posting another bit of Robin's thoughts. I'm totally not sure how much more I'll do. I don't want to ruin this by dragging it out needlessly and ruining the tone.

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Meddling - Robin 2  
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I told Patrick that I would look for him once I was done putting Noah on the transplant list and scheduling their tests, but I just can't right now. I need a few moments to myself. I close the lab door behind, not bothering to turn on the lights. I am glad to have this place to myself. My assistants aren't here today as I haven't called them back after the quarantine yet. Like everyone else who worked through this crisis they deserve a few days off to rest and recover. I know they were busy even before I took ill myself.

My hands are shaking more than they were when I was talking to Noah and I hid that with distracting hand movements or behind my back. Or perhaps I didn't hide it at all. Noah is pretty sharp and though I was getting through to him, there was something in his look that told me he was seeing just as deeply inside me. That is why I need a few minutes in the dark to myself. I feel like I have been cut open and if I don't repair the damage my guts are going to spill out all over the floor.

I don't have the energy to find an appropriate place in the lab to lick my wounds, but just sink down onto the floor against the wall right next to the door. It's so quiet, only in the middle of the night is it normally this quiet even down here in the labs basement. It's a stark contrast to the inner turmoil I am trying, and failing, to manage. I put my hands on my chest and pull them away. I am half expecting to see blood on my hands, the pain so tangible I feel like I have been stabbed.

My father isn't dead. He lied. He never cared enough to come back. He didn't care enough to stay.

There's no miracle surgery that is going to give him a heart or repair the faith that has been shattered and strewn at my feet.

I'm distantly aware of a keening sound filling the room and I know it's from me. I can't muster the strength to tamp it down and ignore it anymore. There is no immediate crisis, no illness to distract me. And somewhere in the past hour Patrick's pain seems to have intensified my own. I want my mommy.

I tried to call her over the past week, but she's off on some mission and hasn't called me back yet. I don't even think she knows that her so-called husband is back or that I was ill. She's going to feel so guilty about not being here with me for this. No quarantine and no amount of armed guards would have kept her away if she had known.

My hands are crossed over my chest and I'm leaning forward letting my tears land on the spotless floor in front of my crossed legs. It feels like the sobs will never stop coming. I can't remember being in such pain, but then that's the small blessing of time. I know I've been avoiding being hurt all these years, but I forgot just how it pierces the body and soul when it's fresh.

Like when I finally, mistakenly, believed my parents were dead.

When Stone slipped away.

The moment I told AJ Michael was really his and I saw Jason's rejection ahead of me with a certainty.

When Sonny had me led out of his penthouse and his life and broke his promise to Stone.

When I believed Brenda was dead.

When I saw my father again and realized the belief that he loved me above all else was a lie.

But the sobs eventually do subside and I fall weakly back against the wall. I press my hands to my face, they are cold and my face is warm. I can feel my entire body aching and I know that I've probably exerted myself more than I should have my first day out of the hospital. I'm a bit dizzy.

Patrick won't be happy with me, but I told you so's are the least of my worries right now. I've kissed him. I've asked him to dinner. I've fallen in love with him. Every instinct inside of me is telling me to run. Go back to Paris, move to Rome as Brenda invites weekly. The pain that is still fresh in my body is screaming that it'll be back eventually and it will be when Patrick Drake leaves me too.

Uncle Mac didn't leave, I tell the instinct. Stone didn't leave me voluntarily. Jason and I would never have worked out anyway. I said so myself to Patrick during that impromptu meal.

I scrub at the tears on my face wincing at the probability that the make up I piled on this morning to hide my post-illness paleness is now smeared all over my hands and face. My best hope is that I find the power to make my legs work and I get to the locker room all before Patrick gets done talking to Noah.

Not likely. I close my eyes and rest my head back against the wall. I need to sit here just a bit longer. Then I'll go wash my face and get back to work. I'll go find Patrick and Noah. The pieces will all be back in place then.


	4. Patrick 2

A/N: Yeah, yeah. I'm still here doing this story. Seriously, I'm stopping once I run dry. I have no clue where this is going. I'm not writing it. The characters are.

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Meddling – Patrick 2  
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Our exchange was awkward, but he's finally listening to me. I don't know what exactly Robin said to him, but it's like Noah is a man transformed. At my request he's actually clocking out and going back to his hotel room to rest. Well, okay, he's not exactly obeying since I told him to go stay in my guest room and that I would take him, but I'm not going to pick a fight over a small detail like that, yet.

I stand watching him turn off his computer and organize the papers on his desk. I'm sure he thinks I'm hovering to make sure he keeps his word, but actually there's something that I'm wanting to ask him. Something not so much to do with him as much as it has to do with me. With Robin. I know I'm frowning when my father looks up at me.

"What?"

I'm surprised by the question. Maybe I'm not as hard to read as I thought.

I toy with the pen in my hand and struggle to figure out what it is I need to know. Maybe there are just too many questions? And not enough time. He needs to go rest, take his pain medication and rest. "I should drive you back to the hotel so you can take your medication right away."

"It's only a few blocks away, Patrick. I can manage to walk and then take what I need to take. That's not what was on your mind just then."

I don't say anything. Still can't find the words. I should have definitely gotten more sleep last night. Maybe I can get some sleep before dinner tonight? Otherwise this date is going to be a bust. At the thought of the word date I can feel myself smile.

"Patrick?"

I shove my pen into the pocket of my coat and look up at my dad. "Robin asked me out to dinner tonight. A date." What am I? Fifteen?

"Are you worried about that?"

"Why would I be worried?" I scowl at him. What a stupid question.

"Because she's not a floozy."

"Floozy?" The word makes me laugh. There's definitely a generational gap here, at least in terms of lingo. My father, however, seems much less concerned with the exact wording and more so with the point he wants to make.

"There's nothing casual about you going out again with a woman like Doctor Robin Scorpio. Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"What the hell do you mean by that?" A spear of rage hardens my voice.

"She was just your patient. She was just deathly ill. She just found out her father was alive and lost him again." He stops and looks away. Something in his face stops me from responding sharply to his recitation of facts. I wait. "What made me change my mind was seeing the pain and devastation in her eyes, in the shake of her hands, as she spoke to me on your behalf. I couldn't leave you with that. Again."

I remember the tears on her cheeks when she came to find me. I was so caught up in my own relief and lust I didn't give them another thought. I am such a selfish bastard.

"She was speaking to her own father. She."

"What? She what?" my voice is harsh still, but this time in anger at myself.

"Since her own father isn't here to ask, I'll ask for him. What are your intentions towards Robin?"

That wasn't what he was going to say, I can tell. Once again I feel like I'm being let off the hook. It's actually starting to piss me off. Why the hell do they think they have to do that?

"Actually, her father did ask me that before he left." I don't tell him what I said. I'm not ready to say it to my own father.

"Interesting." He tilts his head at me. Why do I get the feeling he knows what I said and that all the years we've been apart haven't dimmed his knowledge of me while I feel I don't know him at all? I'm not certain whether I feel more disturbed or comforted by the that.

"What's interesting? He does care about her, even if his." Now, I stop. I don't want to get into this. Any of it. "You need to go rest. I'll let you know when you need to come in for testing." Speaking of which, Robin was supposed to come tell us when she was done. Where was she?

I didn't see him approaching me; consequently, I'm startled by his hand clasping my shoulder. Our eyes lock and I suddenly feel like I'm twelve and my father is about to give me "the talk" again. I didn't need it then, but I have a sinking feeling I must just need it now.

"Be careful with her, Patrick."

"She's not delicate, believe me." I've never met anyone strong, truth be told.

"She's definitely not that. But she's very vulnerable. And you, well, you're not used to dealing with women like her." His wistful smile is like a punch in the gut. I don't need for him to tell me what and who he was thinking of. My mother had told me the story of my father's pathetic courtship of her a million times when I was growing up. He pretty much did everything wrong and still won the girl in the end. My mother made it very clear, though, that it hadn't been easy and suddenly remembering it as an adult I bet it was not without pain. Pain that I don't want to inflict on Robin. My father's right. Huh. I haven't thought that in more years than I can count.

"I'll be careful," I promise him. 


	5. Robin & Patrick

A/N: Whew, talk about moody. Robin and Patrick are just all over the map. Makes them interesting characters, no? Did I once say something about 2 parts? I really don't know what if anything comes next. Hope ya'll enjoy this little turn.

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Meddling – Robin & Patrick  
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There's something different about Patrick tonight. I saw it in his eyes when he picked me up at Mac's front door.

It's like the time after he found out I was HIV positive and he had a sudden attack of conscience at how he treated me, which of course I promptly shoved in his face. I have no idea why he's suddenly treating me as if I'm fragile now, though.

It could just be because we've just kissed and we're on another date? Or maybe Ihe's/I feeling fragile with everything going on with his dad? Or maybe it's just the fact that he's actually out on a second date; that could be quite a new thing for Patrick for all I know.

Or maybe it's that he reads me really well and seems to always have. It wasn't too long ago that his sharing of insights was most unwelcome.

The truth is I Iam/I feeling fragile tonight. So much so I almost cancelled our date on the excuse of being too tired. It was actually my own eagerness to see Patrick again that stopped me from making that last minute call and not avoiding the "I told you so's" I would be certain to hear for going back to work so soon.

His hand is warm as it closes over mine. I look over at him in the dark car as he drives us to our dinner.

"Where are we going?" For some reason I find myself speaking softly, but that's just how things feel tonight between us. Soft. Not wimpy or weak or insubstantial, just soft. Comfortable. As if we've finished climbing a mountain and have finally reached the plateau and the world is spread out at our feet. And it's just…soft.

I guess it's a good thing I became a doctor and not a poet.

"We'll be there in a few minutes. I think you'll like it."

I'm not in a hurry to know so I just hold his hand in the dark car. Feeling. Soft.

I let out a sigh of relief when I see where we're parking. I so did not want to go to the MetroCourt. "This is nice." I smile up at him as he helps me out of the car like a gentleman and I'm happier than ever that I didn't chicken out tonight.

"I was hoping you'd think so. I know that your Uncle Mac and Felicia used to run this place." I hear a question in his voice.

Yes, that's right he's taken me to the place that used to be The Outback and has changed hands a bunch of times in the intervening years. "How did you find out?" I'm curious to know just how much thought he's put into this evening. And just when he started planning it.

"I asked around." He shrugs.

"So you did a lot of research for this date?" I finally ask him outright.

He stops as we reach the front of the door and he clasps my hand in both of his. "Am I winning points?" He smirks and cocks an eyebrow. Clearly, he's not going to share his secrets on this, but it's not really important now anyway.

"I think I can give you a few." I look down at the ground for a moment before looking back up into his deep, dark eyes. "Stone and I used to come here." I tell him this not to bring up a painful past or put distance between us, but because I don't want him to be blindsided with the knowledge later. There is nothing to hide. I'm about to explain this to him when he utters a few words that rock me.

"Thank you for telling me."

I blink at him, truly rendered speechless. Fortunately, that's not an issue because Patrick is opening the front door and leading into the restaurant that is both a symbol of a happy past and the start of a brand new future.

>>>>>>>>

I have to admit I was nervous to bring Robin here. The food and the ambience are highly recommended, but when Alan Quatermaine told me about it earlier today he also told me about Robin's connection to the place. Not about Stone, just that it might be someplace that had more baggage than it might be a good idea to deal with on a date. He was probably right with any woman with Robin and at any other time but now. 

For Robin who has a fantastic capacity to grab at the good memories from the past, in stark contrast to my tendency to savor the bitter, and who is clearly in the grips of an emotional upheaval brought on by her father's resurrection this could be the perfect place. Familiar. Comfortable.

Or it could be a complete bust, too emotional and painful for her. In which case my father would have a few choice words about it himself since he just warned me to be careful with her and not screw it up.

But since she immediately shared with me a deep connection she had to the place right off the bat I think I'm doing well. As we're led to our table she's telling me that this place used to be decorated like an Australian beach. I can barely imagine that since now it's a fancy French restaurant replete with candlelight, fancy decoration and white tablecloths.

"Would you like to order for us?" I ask her as we look over the menus. I'm perfectly capable of it, I can speak passable French, but I think it would be something she would enjoy and I'm proven right again as he eyes sparkle and she accepts my invitation.

I put my menu down and just watch her banter with the sommelier and then the waiter in her cute, yet unaccented French that makes her seem adorable and sexy at the same time.

"I was worried about bringing you here," I admit after tasting the lovely white she picked out for our appetizers.

"You'd be hard pressed to find somewhere in Port Charles that I don't have some kind of tie to. I did live here most of my life."

"Most of your life? Where did you live before?" I want to know everything about her. I would voluntarily sit through photo albums of this gorgeous woman's past. I have never done that before, not since my high school girlfriend. And then it was only to try and make points with the parents.

"Italy, I was born there actually."

I'm watching carefully for any sign that the conversation is upsetting to her. "Do you hold duel citizenship?" I ask.

"I do actually. I was naturalized after I first came here." Now, she does sigh and look sad.

"Do you not want to talk about it?"

She picks up her glass of wine and takes a small sip before answering me. "I'd really like to not talk about it. Or anything to do with my father. Tonight, let's enjoy ourselves, talk about your father." She swirls the wine in her glass and takes another small sip.

"Oh no, other than my most profound gratitude for changing my father's mind, let's declare father's off limits for tonight. I'd much rather talk about kissing."

"Kissing? You want to Italk/I about kissing?" She's clearly amused by my conversational turn and more than amused I can tell because she licks her bottom lip right after she asks.

"I think in this kind of establishment we might get kicked out if we did more than talk about kissing. However, kissing can make for very interesting conversation." I take a sip of wine and watch her over the glass. Her eyes are shining and her face is glowing with suppressed mirth. I'm warmed by the reaction.

I could tell from the moment she appeared in the doorway tonight that she was tired and, as my father pointed out, vulnerable. Part of me, the doctor, wanted to order her to bed as she was clearly pressing herself too hard too soon after being released, against my will, from the hospital, but I saved my breath. I know my Robin well enough to know that if that's what she wanted to do she would have done it herself and if I told her to rest she wouldn't just to spite me. She's just like me in that way. So instead, I intend to make this evening relaxing, light and make sure she gets a good night sleep.

Okay, I'm pretty much forcing myself on that last part because there's nothing I'd like more than to keep her up all night. In my bed. I just know there's little chance of that happening. And it wouldn't be a good idea. For either of us. That something I won't identify throbs in my chest.

"There's a lot of facet to kissing. Types of kisses, intricacies, pitfalls, pressure, moisture, head positioning, places. Oh yes. Lots of places. I've head stories about places to kiss in General Hospital."

"Stories?" Robin snorts dubiously. "More like experience."

I ignore her interruption. "Stories about Monica and Alan, my father and Bobbie. My father and a lot of other nurses."

I hear her mumble something about apples and trees as our appetizer is placed in front of us. I once again ignore her as we both taste the crabe au citron (crab with lemon) she has ordered for us to start with. 

"I'm sure you and I can find a multitude of places in the hospital to enjoy kissing each other." I can't help but laugh as she shoots me a glare.

"You can't possibly think I'm going to run around work kissing you."

"You did today." I think it's most reasonable for me to point out. Robin apparently does not agree as she blushes and shoots me a glare. I point to her plate and continue once she takes another bite. "And I have no doubt that you are not going to be able resist kissing me. All over the hospital and anywhere else we both happen to be." I lean forward and inform her.

"You're unbelievable!"

"I believe we covered that I am before." I can't help but chuckle. Okay, so maybe relaxing and light is out the window, but the fire in her eyes and the smile on her lips is what I was hoping for anyway. "Now on to types of kissing, and I don't just mean the typical French kiss. However apropos it might be in these surroundings." I gesture around with my glass of wine.

"There's kisses of sexual attraction, kisses of affection. Long, slow kisses. Fast, light kisses. Deep kisses. Nipping kisses. There's lip nibbling. Lip biting. Some people even like biting tongues, but it's not my preference. There's also the Eskimo kiss, but if you're not an Eskimo stuck in the North Pole I don't see the point."

"I can't believe you're lecturing me on kissing. Actually, I can." Robin looks up at the ceiling, allowing me to confirm that her flush does indeed spread down her neck.

"Then, there's the hand placement. Hand placement is very important…"

"Stop. I don't want to talk about hands. Patrick Drake you are a little devil."

"If you don't want to talk about it, how about we demonstrate it."

"Your chances of kissing me tonight are waning exponentially with every word you utter."

"Oh, Doctor Scorpio, I really, really doubt that."

>>>>>>

He's leaning back in his chair informing me that I'm going to be kissing him later. The man is incorrigible. Impossible. Unbelievable.

But damn me if my cheeks don't hurt from smiling so much. A far cry from how I felt just an hour ago.

"What would you like to talk about, Doctor Scorpio?" The way he drawls out my name, even though he's using my formal title, is intimate and sexy and make my toes curl. And he's even asked a good question.

I don't really want to talk about work. It's not that I don't love it, but I know I'd get carried away, we'd either end up arguing and this would just be another work meal. I'm surprised by just how much I don't want that. We've already agreed that fathers are off-limits. We could share stories about our pasts, but somehow that doesn't seem right tonight either, as much as I want to know everything about little Patrick Drake - pre-womanizer. Maybe Patrick was on to something by bringing up a totally whimsical topic.

Well, can't beat 'em, Join 'em.

"What about the hands?"

The smile he graces me with makes my crazy capitulation worth it.  



	6. Robin 4

A/N: I'm back! Well, Robin is. I think you'll enjoy this almost as much as she does.

>>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Robin 4  
>>>>>>>>

"Anything you heard tonight that you'd like to try?" His voice is husky, seductive and my stomach flutters and tightens. Instinctively, I know that this is a tone that he has perfected and used successfully on many, many, and many, women. I just can't seem to force myself to resist it on principle. This man is a drug.

Instead, I'm leaning against the doorpost of my Uncle Mac's house and my face hurts from smiling so much tonight and I think my blush might become permanent in that way that adults warn children that their face will freeze that way when they make faces. For the record, I never believed that, I'm just now wondering if there might be a grain of truth when you've held the face for say, oh, four or five hours.

Sighing softly I grasp the lapels of his black, cashmere coat. Looking up at him I'm not bothering to hide just how much there are many, many things he's lectured me on tonight that I want to try. I lick my lips, pleased to see his eyes flicker down to watch and to feel his breathing shift, quicken, under my hands. I tilt my head back and let out a husky laugh. He's leaning over me in that way that invades my space and that used to annoy me at the hospital. I pull at his coat and let out another laugh as the unexpected movement causes him to stumble slightly.

"There was this one thing you mentioned," I tell him. Truly, the man should have a degree in talking about kissing. And poetry; his descriptions of kissing, including hand placement, are poetic. He was right that day when he told me he was cultured and a good conversationalist. And I was partially right to ascribe such talents as being related to the culture and conversation of seduction. I can't particularly complain about that now.

Maybe tomorrow? The voice of cynical reason floats through my mind and a small sigh, sad this time, escapes between my lips.

"Stop thinking, Scorpio."

I close my eyes and tell him to just talk to me. When he talks to me I can let myself go. It's the silence that gets me in trouble. Or saves me, depending on your perspective.

"Which particular type of kiss did you want to try? Where should I place. My. Hands?" Even as he asks he slides one hand behind my neck and puts the other one on my waist. Yeah. That's the one. He must have been filing away my reactions to the various things he described in that gravelly voice of his. Maybe his medical school really did give degrees in Seductive Arts?

"This one?" His breath blows across my lips. I want to whimper. It's just a kiss!

Oh. My. God.

My knuckles must be white on the lapels of his coat as his lips and breath work a magic that I can feel tingling through my entire body. He hasn't even pulled me away from the door, his hands are just resting where's he puts them, the pads of his fingers playing me like an instrument in time with his lips.

I have never been kissed like this. I will never resent his experience again.

All right, I will. Just not when he's kissing Ime/I.

A whimper does escape my throat when he pulls back. My eyes pop open and widen as I see the effect that this kiss has on him. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are dilated and dangerously hooded as he looks down on me. I see him swallow a couple of times before he clears his throat.

"I think I'd better go, Robin."

My eyes drop to the hands still gripping his coat. It takes my mind a few stuttering moments to pass along the command to let go. My fingers ache from holding on so tight.

"We are doing this again."

The kiss or the date thing? I bite my lip to stop myself from telling him to sod dinner and next time let's just get right to the kissing. Not that I could speak in coherent sentences right now.

"Go inside, Robin. Get some rest."

I nod dumbly and I don't even care when he chuckles and asks me for my keys. I'm sharing the humor with him as I dig the keys out of my coat pocket and hand them to his outstretched hand. I'm really hoping that Uncle Mac isn't waiting on the other side of the door for me. I feel about sixteen right now as it is.

My keys are clutched in my hand as I fall against the door he has closed behind me. This time my slide to the floor is because my legs are completely rubbery from the lingering sensation of his lips on mine. I'm not sure I will actually survive making love to that man.


	7. Patrick 4

A/N: Patrick has some thoughts of his own about the date.

>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Patrick 4  
>>>>>>>

I really had no idea what I was in for when I pursued Doctor Robin Scorpio so doggedly. I really had no idea I was so full of shit and getting in completely over my head. I look down at my shaking hands and can't help but laugh at myself. Probably I should be horrified, but for some reason I'm not.

What I am is still sitting in my car outside Robin's house trying to make myself leave before I make a total and utter fool of myself. I think if I had a boom box I'd go stand outside her window and play "In Your Eyes" or something incredibly sappy like in that movie that got me laid when I rented it with a chick in high school. I'm really, really tempted to throw rocks at her window and climb up into her room and crawl into bed with her. I'm sure her uncle the police commissioner would love that.

With that frightful image in mind I start the car and drive off home. As I try to coordinate my feet to manage the three car pedals I realize that it's not just my hands that are shaking, it's my entire body and in a blinding flash of clarity I know exactly why. It's not repressed desire, although I feel that. It's not the cold, either, although I feel that too. This is pure adrenaline.

My body feels like I've just been on a backwards, looping roller coaster and done a free fall sky dive all in the space of a minute. I'm concentrating less on the road than I am on my breathing as I think I might pass out. Thankfully there is virtually little traffic and no ice on the roads as I head back to my apartment building.

I pull into my spot in the parking garage, shut off the car and just sit there. I cover my face and do some breathing exercises this yoga instructor I once dated taught me. I think her name was Brandy? It's not helping. Of course it wouldn't. I knew that. Frankly, I've read enough literature and seen enough sappy movies, a good strategy when trying to soften up a date to score later, to realize what this is. I've just never actually felt it myself.

It's quite a kick in the pants, actually, and exactly what my mother always predicted. Of course, when she said it I would always laugh because I knew there would never be a woman I'd love and respect as much as I did her, no woman as beautiful and certainly no woman who put me on a pedestal high enough for me to waste my time settling for. And that was before I saw how love decimated a great surgeon like my father and I gave up on the concept entirely.

But just like she said, one day there was Doctor Robin Scorpio storming in on my extra-curricular OR activities and demanding I perform a miracle. Of course, my mother didn't set the scene exactly like that. Although she probably would not have been surprised.

Suddenly realizing how cold it is sitting here in my car I take the keys out of the ignition and head up to my twentieth floor apartment. I lean back in the elevator, unable for once to shut off my thoughts and think about sports or surgery. All I can think about is Robin and trying to figure out just when it was that I fell in love with her. Because I am, in love with her.

Totally. Completely. Madly.

And I think at this point, irrevocably.

Was it during our first date when she finally smiled that unguarded smile at me? Was it when I was completely flooded with concern for her health and tried to throw her out of the hospital? Was it when she told me that she had chosen me to be the arbiter of lives during the quarantine because she respected me and my abilities? Was it when she squealed when I gave her the ice cream bar? Was it watching her eat said ice cream bar – I gotta tell you I dreamed about watching that little tongue stroke that chocolate ice cream quite a few times since?

Ah hell, was it when she smacked me across the face?

Or was it back in the OR the moment she stormed in and ordered me to get dressed? Because frankly, I can't even remember who I was on top of, I couldn't take my eyes off this little person dressed like a doctor with fire brimming out of her gorgeous brown eyes.

I snort as I feel myself breaking into a goofy smile as I take this pathetic trip down memory lane.

I unlock the door to my apartment and walk in and am right away struck with the feeling that something is very different. I turn on the light and confirm that nothing is out of place. Which means that what's different is me.

I really had no idea what I was in for.

Maybe I should call and make sure she's feeling all right? She did look quite flushed when she stumbled into her house.

Yeah, there's that goofy smile again. 


	8. Robin 5

A/N: Yeah, I'm back with some more. Again, still not sure how much more there will be. I'm surprised I came up with this. What I can say is that whatever comes next is not following a normal story format. There is some leap of time here and it's likely that if I continue there will be more leaps in time as we check in with Patrick and Robin through the passage of time. We're clearly not tracking the time line of the show. Anyway, feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for all the great comments so far.

>>>>>  
It's hard to know what to think  
When I don't know if this is even real.  
You're not here, you're not there  
But you are everywhere  
I love you, this much I know is true  
But you've gone now, it's so unfair  
4FT Fingers, "Gone But Not Forgotten"  
>>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Robin 5  
>>>>>>>>

I put the cordless phone down on the dining table and pace around the couch to the door of my new apartment and back again. I have sick feeling in my stomach and I want to get into my car and just drive. Or hop a plane for anywhere and nowhere all at once. I don't know whether to laugh or cry that my former constant companion chaos is back after all those years of tranquility. Or my social coma as Brenda calls it.

I rub my hands over my face, which has long been naked of the make up that I wore to the hospital today. Well, yesterday. It was a really long night. I was treating a patient with my drug protocol when she went critical and needed immediate surgery. It had been a foregone conclusion that once the drug had repaired what it needed to repair she would still require surgery, a surgery that would have most likely failed without the treatment, it just wasn't supposed to happen that quickly. Patrick himself was coming off two complicated surgeries that day, but he refused to leave the surgery of our patient to someone else. Since it was a mutual patient I stayed to observe. Observe his brilliance in action as he said, and I had to agree. Patrick is a brilliant surgeon and he has only gotten better as doctor in the weeks since the quarantine. He is beginning to connect with his patients more. I know it's not easy for him, he has such a senstive and empathetic soul hidden under that hard shell, but he's trying and I'm so proud of him.

He's also become a dear friend as well. Well, more than a friend if you go by all the kissing. I would be calling him right now if I didn't know he was getting much needed and deserved sleep. Which is what I should be doing as well, what I was trying to do when my mother called and I had to tell her that my father was alive.

What was I supposed to say to say to her? How was I supposed to explain why he was here and gone; why he never contacted either one of us; why he hasn't called her even now? Even in the moment I was telling her it still didn't seem real to me. It's still not real.

I stop my pacing to light the cinnamon scented pillar candles that Felicia gave me as a house warming present. I breathe deeply and suck in a ragged breath at the same time.

My father is alive. See. They're just words. Words I think of at the oddest moment, but just words. That's not so odd really, because the man I knew as my father doesn't seem to exist anymore. My Robbie was not the cold man that inhabited that body and spoke with that voice. He told me so himself that this was the case, and that more than anything is what makes me want to cower down and sob. If I had any tears left.

I open a drawer and pull out a photo that I found when I was unpacking. It's a photo of the three of us, my mother, my father and me. It was taken right after they got married and we became this scarily normal nuclear family, well, in the photo at least. The love in the photo is palpable and breathtaking. Fast forward to now and none of us are the same. All of us have gone through our own form of hell and come out the other side in our own way.

My mother being lost and along all those years with no memory and the recent loss of her baby daughter, my sister Leora.

Me with Stone, Jason and HIV.

Then there's Robert Scorpio. World-saving WSB agent turned entrapped killer. I wish I couldn't understand what has turned him into who he's become. I wish I could still hate him for never finding me. It was actually less heart aching than realizing that what I was seeing was this great man with his heart and soul systematically sucked out his body as the body count he racked up grew.

How could I not understand? I made the parallel in the split second after he told me what he had been doing – the parallel between him and Jason Morgan. Because, really, Jason is not the same man that I once loved and who once loved me. He too is a shadow of his former self.

The question that haunts me now is whether it's within my power to save him, Robert Scorpio. Could my forgiveness and letting him back into my life bring him back? Or is it too late?

The phone rings and I put the picture back into the drawer. 


	9. Patrick 5

A/N: Yeah, I'm back again. Still saying that I'm not sure how much more. I definitely at least 1 more POV each in mind. Please do tell me when I begin to lose the tone and impact!

>>>>>  
Meddling - Patrick 5  
>>>>>>

"We found a liver."

I'm elated to just be saying the words, elated to be saying them to Robin. For a split second after I hang up with her I wonder who I would have called before I met her and it comes barreling on me that the only phone call would have been news of my father's death. The reality of that is like a punch in the gut and I sit back down on the unmade bed on which I had been sleeping when my father had called me with the news.

No, the only phone call would have been to ask me to identify the body. He probably would have been found face down in his favorite bar or even alone his crappy apartment back in NYC not to be found by days unless he had an outstanding bar bill. The bitch of it all was that we only lived less than fifteen blocks away from each other and it might as well have been different continents. If Robin hadn't convinced him to get out of that bar, hadn't stormed in and demanded I perform a miracle, my father would have never had a chance to turn his life around and I would never have gotten to know him as I have. I would never have gotten to forgive him, because I realize suddenly, I have. It was Robin, not me, who performed the miracle.

>>>>

She looks tired, I can see that even through my edgy excitement and I tell her so.

"You're not looking like a fresh daisy yourself," she says as she slips her hand into mine after locking her apartment door behind her. "Why don't we walk the rest of the way?"

I take her up on the suggestion. The walk from her apartment is actually quicker than driving and parking and we both could use the cool, moist early morning air to wake us up. As we walk, still holding hands, my thoughts turn back to the moment I had in my apartment earlier. My stomach twists up, but I force the words out anyway.

"This wouldn't be happening if it wasn't for you, Robin. All of it. I still don't know how to thank you or how we got so lucky." She says nothing so I turn and see her looking at me, her eyes sparkling with tears. I stroke her tiny hand and pull her closer. I transfer her hand to my other hand and put my arm around her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

I feel her sigh and relax against me as we continue to walk, it lessens some of the anxiety her silence churned up.

"I'm just as lucky, Patrick." She traces my hand with her soft fingers. "You've given me as much as I've given you."

I would argue, but the emotion in her voice tells me that she's serious and that I shouldn't make this into a contest. The sight of the hospital entrance also tells me that now's not the time to delve further into this private conversation.

>>>>>

"I'll wait for you in the waiting room," Robin says as we stand near the entrance to the Transplant Unit.

"My father wants to see you. I didn't just drag you out of bed to keep me company." I grin at her.

She doesn't say a word, but I can see that she's pleased and touched by the request. Something about the evident connection between my father and the woman that I…I'm seeing causes my stomach to turn over. I stroke my finger down her cheek "Go on," I whisper.

When she finds me a short time later I can't decipher the expression on her face, but there's no time to delve into it because my father is waiting to go into surgery. I leave her with a quick kiss and walk into the pre-op room where my father has been prepped to be wheeled into the OR.

My father must have seen my frustrated glance at the doors to the OR because the first words out his mouth are "You shouldn't see me like that, Patrick. It's too close."

I want to rail at him that it's worse for me to be left powerless and waiting, but even I can see that now is not the time and on this it's not worth the energy to try to change his mind.

"I realized this morning that I've forgiven you." I'm not sure quite why I've said this, but apparently it's the right thing to say because my father closes his eyes and tears seep out onto the pillow beneath his head. My heart starts beating nervously as I see that his skin is almost as pale as the white linens he's lying on. His mortality is suddenly a palpable thing and in the hindsight of forgiveness so is his humanity. My head drops forward and I take his hand in mine, taking comfort from its warmth.

I've suddenly realized that my bitterness towards my father was not just because he left me to deal with my grief alone or because he let my mother down, but because my superhuman father suddenly proved to have feet of clay. That man I idolized and wanted to be like my entire life turned out to be a flawed human subject to weakness and that meant that I was too. I hated him for it and after some angry attempts to drag him out of the bottle I wrote him off and went on to try and prove that I would never be so weak. As he deserted me, I deserted him. The irony is overwhelming.

"Can you forgive me?" I whisper.

His eyes open and he looks up at me in surprise. "For what?"

"For writing you off and leaving you to die." Then. Recently.

"Oh, Patrick. You're the son, it was my job to be there for you and I wasn't."

I shake my head and I see that tears I didn't even know I was crying splatter on my father's already wet face. "I was supposed to be a man." I kneel down now and put my head on the pillow next to my father's. "I love you, Dad." What else, really, is there to say?

"Patrick, I am so proud of you. You are the best man I have ever known, the best surgeon and you are becoming the best doctor I have ever had the privilege to see. And, forgive me for being premature as I don't know if I'll get to say this later, if you play your cards right you'll be the best husband to the best wife you could possibly choose. Robin is the one for you, Patrick. I hope that doesn't scare you away."

I close my eyes as his hand strokes my hair like he did when I was a little boy and he'd come into my room after I had gone to bed and he was home late from the hospital. I would lie halfway asleep, but my body and mind would not fully rest until I felt the stroke of my father's hand on my head. I had forgotten that until now.

"You have your mother's heart, Patrick. Let it shine through. Always know that I love you."

Before another minute has passed the nurse and anesthesiologist come in to take him away.

I stand up and hold his hand until they force me from the room. Slowly, I walk down the empty corridor back towards the waiting area where Robin is waiting. As I push through the doors she stands up and holds her arms out.


	10. Robin 6

A/N: This one is for Jackie. Consider this payment in full. How about some more _quid pro quo_?

>>>>>>  
Meddling – Robin 6  
>>>>>>

As I walk down the stark white corridor to the pre-op room to see Noah, the only sounds I hear are the pounding of my heart and the squish of my sneakers echoing on the stark, white tiled walls. I take a deep breath and push open the doors to see him lying there with his eyes closed. As I look at him, I'm struck with a wave of emotion for him as great as any I would feel for someone that I've known much longer than the few months I've known him. But then, we've been through a lot together in that short period of time. Even before I fell in love with his son.

"Thank you for coming."

Noah's words confirm that he does want me here right now and encourage me to enter the room to stand at his bedside. I take his outstretched hand in both of my own and smile down at him. There are a ton of things crowding around in my head right now that I want to say, but I'm a bit reticent as in the last conversation we had alone together I said more than I feel I should have. Was perhaps rougher than I should have been. Mostly, I'm embarrassed by my loss of control, so I settle for something in between trite and meaningful.

"I'm going to take you up on your offer to write that paper with me when this is all over."

"The first thing that first struck me about you, Doctor Scorpio is your certainty that what I had to offer was just what you needed and that I would come through for you." Noah laughed softly. "You're relentless."

"I am, when it comes to a friend." I was and I knew it, sometimes to my own detriment. Many times I've wished I was as relentless for myself as I was for others.

"Is that what you're calling it these days?'

"What?" I feel my brow furrow in confusion.

"You and Patrick. You're pretty relentless with him, does that mean you're _friends_?"

I have no idea why, but I find myself blushing at the mere mention of Noah's son. Since I'm standing above him and am wearing a pony tail, I can't even dip my head to hide my silly reaction behind my hair. My reaction sets off a spark of satisfaction in Noah's eyes and I now see that his request to see me was more than just to have a friendly visit. Noah Drake has an agenda. And I bet it has to do with his aforementioned son.

"Have you told him yet that you're in love with him?"

"Geez." I groan and bite my lip and blush even more. I'm usually better at guarding my feelings. Maybe it's the late hour and lack of sleep, but I think it's something special about these Drake men that just gets to me.

"I'll take that as a no. I hope that you'll grant some leeway to a man on his way to a serious surgery that he may not make it out the other side of."

"Noah! You can't allow yourself to think that way." I stop my heated interruption and tilt my head to study him more closely. "Unless it's just to manipulate me so you can say something completely outrageous concerning your son and I?" I chuckle at my own denseness.

"No one labeled you a genius for no reason, Doctor Scorpio," he teases for a moment, but then his mien is serious again and he squeezes my hand. "I need for you to know that whether this surgery works out the way we all hope it does that I am so grateful for all that you have done for me and for my son. I might never have gotten to know him again and that is a debt I will never be able to repay."

I let out a small sigh and shake my head. He's not done, but at this point I'm so choked up that I can't even speak to tell him that his gratitude is not necessary. These Drake men keep bringing me to my knees. Honestly, I kind of like it.

"I am so thrilled that my son has you in his life. My dying request to you." I make a squeak of protest at this, but he ignores me and goes on. "My dying request is that you continue to be relentless with him. He's going mess everything up, probably more than once, because he's never had to take a woman seriously before; he's never taken _himself_ seriously before with a woman. I know this because I was him back when I met his mother. Thankfully, she was as relentless with me as you'll need to be with him. And my promise to you is that it'll be worth it."

I'm dizzy. My heart is racing, my knees are wobbly, my stomach is aching and tears are running down my cheeks. This man, this wonderful man, has just basically entrusted his wonderful son to me. And I really want that more than anything right now. All I can do is laugh and slash at my cheeks with the back of my hand.

"I love him, Noah. I promise I'll be relentless." Because what else is there to say?

A few minutes later I'm back in the hallway and I slump against the wall for a moment trying to compose myself, I need dry my cheeks and catch my breath. I rub at my eyes and face with a sleeve of navy blue Sorbonne sweatshirt I threw on right before Patrick showed up and I do a few deep Yoga breaths. Then for good measure I shake my head as if to reset my brain.

My heart is still hammering as I walk down the hall to send Patrick to see his father. As I push open the doors to the waiting room, Noah's last words are echoing in my ears.

_He already loves you. Show him the way._


	11. Patrick 6

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. All the feedback you've given me has been so wonderful and amazing. Seriously. I really should save it all. Hmmm, I think I will. Anyway, hope this is an enjoyable read. It's Patrick's turn.

>>>>>>  
Meddling – Patrick 6  
>>>>>>

I don't want to let go. Right now everything is all right. My father is still alive and just heading in for what will hopefully be a life saving surgery. Robin is in my arms and holding on to me just as tightly as I'm holding on to her. She's solid and warm against my body and I feel grounded by her touch and by the scent of her that I breathe in with every breath. I don't want this moment to end. Once it does time will move on, I'll lose all control and whatever happens next will happen.

"The last time I was all alone," I whisper against the top of her hair where I'm resting my cheek as I struggle to block out the memory of my father coming into the waiting room to tell me that we had lost my mother.

"You're not alone now."

I lift my head and open my eyes. She tilts her head back and looks at me solemnly as I stroke back the hair that's flying around her head loose from her pony tail. There are dark smudges under her eyes and there's that look in her eyes that I saw before and still cannot decipher. I want to ask what my father has said to her to cause that look, but some part of me thinks that if she reveals it now my father won't pull through. "You should get some sleep," I say instead.

"We should get some sleep. Do you want to stay here or go back to my place?"

"Your place?" I can't resist the loaded question and I'm rewarded by a groan and an eye roll. I love getting a reaction out of her, especially since I can tell that she's not really annoyed because she hasn't peeled herself off my body yet.

"Because it's in walking distance and a lot more comfortable, Patrick."

Is it wrong that her school-marmish tone turns me on?

"And where will I be sleeping, Doctor Scorpio?" Well, well, well, this is getting more interesting as Robin does indeed put some distance between us and blushes. She so wants me in her bed, I know it and I tell her so.

"You're unbelievable!" I can tell her heart's not in the accusation, so while I could crow a bit more, I'm not that stupid as to ruin the chances of being in the only place I want to be right now. "I promise to be a good boy. Well, as good as you want me to be." Okay, just a bit stupid.

With one last eye roll she turns around. "I'll go let the nurse's desk know where we'll be." I watch her rush off and shake my head. Things are definitely different than the last time I waited for a parent to get out of surgery. Hopefully, the result will be different too.

>>>>>>>>

"You never did tell me where I'm sleeping. Please don't tell me it's that tiny little couch with all the girly pillows," I say as we walk into Robin's apartment. I know there's no bed in the second bedroom as it's set up as her office. The only bed is the big, brand new one in the master bedroom. I wonder if it's to my desired firmness? She wouldn't let me test it out the one and only time she even let me peek in there.

As she closes the door behind me I look around the cozy place she has made for herself. I walk over and pick up a half-burned red pillar candle and sniff it. Mmmm, cinnamon. I put it back down and idly glance at all the do-dads she has carefully placed around the living room. It's so different from my modern living, which is filled with a killer stereo system, a huge DLP television and a zillion other electronics and gadgets, yet I feel surprisingly relaxed here in Robin's space. The question is whether I'm going to get comfortable beyond the living room.

I slip my hands into the front pockets of my jeans and watch her still standing awkwardly by her front door.

"Um, well, I guess." She stops and blows out a breath.

She's so darn cute. Who knew that waiting for my father to get out of a life-or-death twelve hour surgery could be so interesting? Since it's because of Robin I'm managing to hang on to the last thread of my sanity here I decide to let her off the hook.

"I can sleep on the couch." Although, as I look at it, I don't think I'll fit on it.

She's looking at the couch too and sighs. "What you said before, about being a good boy. Do you think you could actually do that?" She looks like she wishes the ground would open up and swallow her up.

It's on the tip of my tongue to ask her if she really wants me too, but I bite my tongue instead. I rock back on my heels and sweep my eyes over her petite form. My palms itch to unwrap her from those layers of sweats to reveal the curves I know are under there, but apparently that is not an option, and I am exhausted after three surgeries and all the other stuff. "Sure." I shrug.

She cocks her head and studies for a moment and apparently she's decided to trust me because she nods and walks towards the bedroom. I stand watching her, my heart racing at the idea that I am going to get into bed with this woman. Be able to hold her in my arms for the next...I frown and take my hand out of my pocket and check my watch. Damn! Robin and I are both supposed to be on duty in about six hours.

"Patrick?"

I look up and she's stopped and is now facing me with a questioning look.

"We're supposed to be on duty in six hours."

"I spoke to Alan while you were talking to your father. He's taking care of rearranging the schedule. He said you didn't have any critical surgeries scheduled anyway."

The fact that she went about taking care of things without consulting me actually kind of irks me. "What about the lab?" The question came out more clipped than I had intended.

"I'll have to check in, but my assistants can handle things where we are now." She frowns. "Are you mad?"

I run my hand through my hair and walk over to her. "I probably shouldn't be." I sigh and look down at her trying to get my anger in check.

"I only meant to help." She looks at me with like I'm kind of nuts, which I guess in a way I am.

"I'm a big boy, Robin. I can take care of my job you know." I know I should be touched that she wants to help and take care of me this way, but I don't. Yet, I feel like a complete ass when tears fill her eyes. Of course, she immediately turns away so that I can't see them and says a stoic "sorry." Which only pisses me off more.

"Don't do that, Robin. Just don't do that!" I barely restrain myself from stamping on the ground like I would have if I were, oh, say, seven years old.

"Do what?" She turns around to face me again, her face as guarded as I've ever seen it.

"Pretend. Hide your feelings! You're pissed, tell me. You're hurt, tell me I'm an ass. Don't pull away from me. Just don't do that!" I put my hands on my hips and lean over her. Before I can get anymore worked up she utters a four letter word that knocks all my anger off its feet and elicits a surprised bark of laughter from me.

"You're a pain in the ass, Drake. A cranky, over emotional, pain in the ass who's worried about his father and freaking out because you've never gotten into a bed with a woman and not had sex in your entire over-sexed life. And the fact that you're taking your feelings out on me actually does hurt my feelings, but also makes me feel close to you because I know you're letting your guard down with me. Which makes me put my guard back up so that I don't insult you or make it mean more than it should because your…" she trails off and lets out an exasperated growl. "Is that what you want me to say?"

"Pretty much. How about we hit the sheets and see if you can keep your hands off me?" I give her my best leer to let her know how much I appreciate her letting me back in.  



	12. Robin 7

A/N: I started with inspiration for a one part short. Then I got the idea as I posted to do Patrick's POV. Absolutely, I was going to stop at two parts. Then I was thinking of doing a Noah POV companion piece, that never got done and look here, part 7 of Robin's POV. Not sure how this happened or how long the inspiration will stick – the muse is a fickle and fiendish imp. She's very motivated, though, by feedback. ;-)

The toothpaste used in this part does exist. Can you believe there's a web site called toothpaste world! There really is a web site for everything.

>>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Robin 7  
>>>>>>>>

I can't blame anyone else, not even Patrick, for putting me in this position.

Knowing that does not ease the dragonflies in my stomach one iota. I sit down on the edge of my freshly made bed and curl my hands on my lap and try to get my rioting nerves under control. It's not an easy goal, in fact it's impossible as not five feet from where I'm sitting Patrick is preparing for bed in my ien suite/i bathroom and when he emerges he will be wearing nothing but his underwear. Because, you see, Patrick doesn't have anything else to sleep in. Not even a pair of scrubs. He pointed this fact out to me when we got to the bedroom where we're about to climb into bed. When I looked at him in panicked shock he smirked at me and offered to let me inspect the pockets of his jeans to see if he had anything hidden in there to wear.

So, while I am very appropriately attired in pajama bottoms and a tank top, Patrick Drake will be in his underwear. Just Patrick and skin. And washboard abs. Oh my.

I'd laugh if I wasn't so panicked because as much I usually tend to ascribe devious motives to Patrick "The Rake" Drake, I know that neither of us thought about this particular detail when iI/i made the proposal we come back here. Now, I can't very well make him go back to the hospital to get something to wear as it would make me look like I really couldn't resist his barely clad form and he'd inever/i let me live it down. Now, instead of laughing and engaging in further hand wringing, I stand up and head to the kitchen for my morning pills.

Check. Mate.

>>>>>>

"I tried your robe, but I don't think pink is my color."

"I do not have a pink robe." I turn and glare at him, my last pill in my hand. Oh my. I'd momentarily manage to forget that I would be treated to, and I'll only admit this in my head, the truly mind blowing sight of Patrick Drake clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs. Wow. How was it that I managed to remain so unflustered the first time I got to see this? Oh right, he was a pompous rutting pig ass of a man.

"This is what you've been denying yourself all this time." He spreads his arms out and turns slowly around so that I can get a view of all of his, er, assets.

Since I probably couldn't be any more mortified I decide to lean back against the counter and enjoy the view, my pill on hold in my right hand. Funny, I muse, how one obvious attempt to show himself off to me makes him come off like a pig and now that I've gotten to know him I'm practically salivating. The female mind mystifies even me, I can't imagine how men feel.

"Me thinks Doctor Scorpio enjoyed the view." Patrick's voice is a silky caress that I can actually feel sliding down my spine as he approaches me. When he stops to stand in front of me my heart is pounding as I anticipate what he's going to do next. When his hand reaches out I bite my lip in delighted expectation.

My very naughty thoughts are brought to an abrupt halt when all he does is take my right hand and unfurl it to display my forgotten pill. Then he's reaches behind me and picks up my glass of water and holds it out to me. The fireflies in my stomach are now churning for an entirely different reason at the tender look in his eyes and his caring actions bring tears to my eyes. Tender, with just the hint of teasing at my transparently prurient thoughts.

"Thank you," I say to him when I'm done and he takes the glass and puts it in the sink for me. As I watch, my tender regard turns to concern as he continues to stand over the sink, his hand touching the edge of the counter.

"Patrick?" I start to walk over to him.

"Do you mind if I use the phone to call the hospital?" His voice is gruff.

Without a word I take the cordless phone from the wall and hand it to him. I put my hand on his arm and through my touch I feel the vibration of his short conversation. I move closer and his warmth envelopes me. He turns his head and I can see that there's no news, which is good news.

"Come to bed," I whisper, barely able to hear myself over the thumping of my pulse.

I wait for the leer, but it doesn't come. Instead, he places his hand over mine and continues to look down at me, his brown eyes still tender and serious. He's thanking me for my support and letting me know he's going to be a gentleman. In answer I put my hand on his stubbled cheek and guide his face down to mine and press my lips against his. It's not a passionate touch, but a gentle one. I let my lips linger over his and our mouths open slightly against each other and our breaths mingle, hitch and mingle. The hand covering mine presses harder, but our eyes remain open. I trace the fingers that are barely touching his cheek to his neck and wrap my hand around it and deepen the kiss. My eyes slip close.

I slide my tongue over his lips and into his mouth. I moan as I taste my favorite anise flavored toothpaste from France layered with Patrick's own unique taste. The mingling of flavors lends the moment further intimacy and a shaft of desire pierces through me and I pull back. Not because I need to be cautious or because I know this is too soon for me, but because I know that this is so for him as well.

While I can feel his arousal against my stomach and though I know his sexual experience is vast, I know he's not prepared for what love making would be like between us. Not right now, not with Noah in surgery. I take his hand in mine, prepared to soften the blow of my pulling away with some innocuous words, but before I can speak he shakes his head and smiles slightly at me. He traces a finger over my cheek, down my neck and down my collarbone to rest above my heart.

"Not yet. I know." 


	13. Patrick 7

A/N: Thanks for all the excellent reviews - they are an inspiration!

>>>>>>>   
Meddling – Patrick 7  
>>>>>>>

_"You're Patrick Drake, you don't do nervous," _I remind my sexy looking reflection. This self-same reflection, however, ignores my commentary and reaches down yet again to make sure that the waistband of my Calvins are symmetrical on each hip and dipping down just low enough to get Robin Scorpio salivating when I make my long-awaited appearance in the adjoining bedroom.

_"Just get out there before she starts wondering what you're doing in here or falls asleep!"_ I tell myself and put my hand on the door knob. With one last inhalation I open the door and prepare to dazzle Robin Scorpio with my gym-toned body.

"Make sure you're sitting down!" I call out as I walk through the door into…the empty bedroom. "Man, you are a chicken, Scorpio!" I chuckle to myself and walk out of the bedroom in search of my wayward host.

She's not in the office and she's not in the living room. Though the breakfast bar screens are closed I hear the faint sounds of glass and pill bottles coming from the kitchen and my stomach sinks. She's taking her morning protocol. I stop walking, trying to recoup. My plan to flaunt my body in front of her suddenly feels shallow. Still, I know Robin well enough to know that she'd hate it if I walked into the kitchen and made her taking her pills a big, serious deal. I suck in some air and gird myself back up.

"I did try your robe, but I just didn't think pink is my color." I lean against the entry to the kitchen and smirk at her.

"I do not have a pink robe!" She turns from the counter where she's taking her pills and glares at me, ready to banter and argue. The sight of her so pugnacious lessens my unease that she might feel my presence was an intrusion while she took her meds. My smirk widens to a grin that flashes my teeth.

She might not have a pink robe, but she definitely has pink cheeks. I put my hands on my hips and let her take an eyeful of me while I take advantage of her distraction and take an eyeful of her. Some more of the tension in my gut unravels at the sight of her looking so delectable in blue flannel pajamas bottoms and a matching ribbed tank top. Delectable, healthy and definitely approving of the view.

"This is what you've been denying yourself all this time." Unable to help myself I spread my arms out and turn slowly around so that she can get a view of all of my, ahem, assets.

Take one of the longest days of my life, total exhaustion and add one Robin Scorpio and I'm actually enjoying myself, I think to myself as I peacock around for her. And I'm not the only one enjoying myself.

When I get one hundred and eighty degrees around I'm delighted to find her leaning back on the counter enjoying the view. I tilt my head and bite my lip and fix her with a look that makes the blush on her cheeks deepen.

"Me thinks Doctor Scorpio enjoyed the view." I take my time to walk up to her, making sure I don't stop until I'm in her space and able to detect the citrus scent of her moisturizer.

Oh my, this is fabulous! She's having pornographic thoughts about me! I bite back a laugh as she bites her lip and starts slightly as I reach out my hand. Shock widens her eyes when all I do is lift up her hand and unfurl her fist to unhide the pill she hasn't yet taken. At the sight of the pill my sense of delight flees and is replaced with a tenderness that gives me pause. This is how I felt during the quarantine, grateful that she's allowing me this intimacy of caring for her. Except, we're standing barely clothed in her kitchen and she's not my patient anymore. Shaken by the depth of my feelings, I avoid her eyes and reach over her shoulder to retrieve her glass of water.

"Thank you." Her words are slightly shaky, which in turn breaks something inside me that I didn't realize I had been shoring up. I take the glass from her and walk over to the sink. I carefully place it in the basin and drop my head down trying to gather myself back up. It's all too much right now. Her. My father.

"Patrick?"

"Do you mind if I use the phone to call the hospital?" I ask before she can touch me. I know I'd lose what's left of my equanimity if she touched me. My momentarily relief that she just hands me the telephone flees as while I'm dialing she places a hand on my arm. As I call the Transplant Unit and ask for a status update on my father's surgery I'm blinded by the insight that her touch is not my undoing, but lends me strength. When she moves closer, sharing her body heat with me it's all I can do to not toss the phone on the floor and sweep her up and hold her against me. Instead, I cut the connection and reach over and put the phone back on the wall.

"Come to bed," My heart stutters at her soft words.

Who is this woman? I mean, really. Who is she? I put my hand over hers, trapping it against my skin as I study her. She came into my life shook it up with her Stalin-like charm and now she's providing me with such loving care my heart is wobbling in my chest. As she continues to look up at me I'm left bare and bereft of a glib comment to hide behind.

She places her hand on my cheek and raises herself on her tiptoes and I automatically lean down to meet her. I'm ready for a kiss, but not for what she does by barely touching her lips to mine, just moving them softly over mine, urging them open. My breath hitches as we breathe the same breath, again as her fingers skim over my cheek and neck and again as her hand cradles my neck and she finally deepens the kiss. I sink.

It's not until she pulls away that I'm able to form a remotely coherent thought.

This is love.


	14. Robin 8

A/N: Thanks for all the great support. Here's some more fic in the world of loving Patrick.

>>>>>  
Meddling – Robin 8  
>>>>>>

I had forgotten how reassuring it is to have another person in bed with you.

I've been awake for a while now, having slept longer than I have since before medical school and am lying here with my eyes closed reveling in the weight of Patrick's arm around my waist and the heat of him behind me.

Patrick shifts behind me and he buries his face in my neck. The feel of his breath on the skin of my neck sends tendrils of desire through my body. If it I wasn't afraid I'd wake him up I'd let out a contented moan and press myself further into him. A few hours in bed with him and I've become a shameless hussy. I can't imagine how I'll be when we finally make love. I can't wait to find out. Right now, with arousal pulsing between my legs I can't remember why I've decide to wait. Whatever it was it all sounds like the adults talking in the Peanuts' cartoons in my head, a bunch of sounds but no content.

"You're thinking too loudly."

Damn, the movement of his lips and the vibration of his speech against my body feel so good. I bite my lip and grin as he curls himself around me letting me feel that his own physical state is the same as mine.

"You wouldn't think so if you knew what I was thinking." I know my voice sounds like a sigh, but I am shameless now after all.

"Really?" Pleasure and surprise lilts his tone and he lifts his head to try and get a look at my face. I turn my head and let him see that he hasn't mistaken my meaning. Looking into his eyes it's obvious that he's also floating along on sensation and that rational thought is not going to come from his quarter. It was surprising enough last night. Which means I have the choice – I can continue to be the shameless hussy I've styled myself as for the past, oh, fifteen minutes, or I can conjure up a decade of prudence at the snap of the fingers?

As Patrick turns me onto my back and brings his face down for a kiss the choice is made for me. The moment his tongue slides into my mouth I'm lost, breathless. I want to have this man, to merge with him more than I can remember wanting anything else in a long, long time. I cannot deny myself the temptation of finally having something I want readily available to me. There's nothing attractive to me right now in being sensible, which usually means me denying myself. I've done too much of that in the past bundle of years.

"You feel so good." Patrick's words are a grumble against my lips as our legs entwine and our bodies melt into each other. His hands are everywhere skimming over my skin and I can do nothing but grasp onto him so I don't fly apart.

"Take it off, take it off." My words are gasping pants. He is caressing me over my clothes and I just want them gone. I need to feel his skin. I need.

"Robin!" Patrick's hips thrust on top of me. He buries his face in my hair and I feel him tremble as he tries to slow down. I won't let him. I wrap my legs around him, pressing the heels of my feet into the backs of his thighs. I arch into him, urging him on.

I am so far gone there is a ringing in my ears.

"Robin. Robin!" Patrick is pulling back and calling my name. I open my eyes and look up at him, blinking multiple times because I can hardly focus through the haze of lust.

"The phone is ringing." He reaches over to answer it.

"Oh." I run a hand over my forehead, pushing my tangled hair off my face. With my other I continue to hold onto Patrick's shoulder. It's too early for the surgery to be over so I say a silent prayer that this is not an unwanted update on Noah.

"It's for you. It's your father."

Huh? I look up at Patrick in confusion. Then I remember. My father is alive. I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out as I silently take the phone from him. "Hello?" I'm finally able to croak out.

"Robin, are you all right? The hospital said you were taking off today." The sound of my father's voice fills me with a sudden joy that takes me by surprise. Before I had been so hurt and angry and then he was gone, now that he's called concerned about me has finally let something loose inside me.

"I'm, uh, I'm fine." I take a deep breath look into Patrick's face, which is hovering worriedly over me. "Noah Drake went into surgery for a liver transplant this morning. We're waiting it out at my apartment." I flush suddenly as the reality of talking to my father while still flattened to the bed by an almost naked and aroused Patrick Drake hits me. I look up at him pleadingly and he immediately catches on, but he still deliberately takes his time rolling off me. Mmmm.

"Well, um, he's a good friend isn't he?" My father sounds hesitant, probably afraid I'd bite his head off for prying, but I get his meaning.

"Yes, he's a good friend." I swat Patrick's hand away from my breast. "Why are you calling?"

"I wanted to see how you are. To let you know that I've finished up the virus case and was wondering if maybe you'd see me if I came back to Port Charles."

"Don't do anything on my account." There it is again. He's asking not making it happen. That is not the Robert Scorpio I knew. My sudden flare of joy drains and I feel deflated. There's a silence on the phone.

"Enough of this, already. You say you're a grown woman, but you're acting less mature than you were at eight. I'll be there in two days and you will see me!" His harsh tone is punctuated by the click of him cutting off the connection.

I grin and look up at Patrick who's looking pretty pleased himself. He takes the telephone and puts it back on the side table. "Does this mean you've forgiven him?" He lifts his eyebrows questioningly.

"I think I might have." I scratch at the stubble on his cheeks. "Not that he doesn't have a lot to answer for. My father is alive, Patrick. He's coming to see me." Something flashes in his eyes at my words and the more immediate present comes back.

"Let's call the hospital and then have some lunch and go back there. You are going to eat," I insist when I see he's about to argue. I lean over and press a kiss to his lips.

"About what just was about to happen…"

I chuckle at Patrick's obvious discomfort at "talking" and touched by his willingness to do it anyway. "There'll be time enough later to analyze things to my satisfaction later." I put a hand over his mouth.

"Any maybe then I can distract you?" he says through my fingers, nipping at them playfully, before his eyes turn serious again. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and begins to dial the hospital.


	15. Patrick 8

A/N: Don't hate me because I'm beautiful; hate me because I won't let Robin and Patrick consummate their relationship until the time is right. However, there is a definite naughty warning on this part. So if you're under 17 or prude please don't read.

>>>>>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Patrick 8  
>>>>>>>>>>>

I'm going out of my mind.

I close the apartment door and walk straight into my kitchen, drop my head into the sink and turn on the water. Not even the extra intense work out I just put in at the gym is taking the edge off. I turn off the water and stand bent over the sink with water and sweat pouring off me as I try to figure out how my life came to this.

Having a love life hasn't been this difficult since my residency and overbearing fathers haven't been an issue since I was seventeen. There are times over the past few weeks I've wondered if this relationship stuff is really worth it as I think back on my carefree life back in New York City. But there are two catches to that life, no Robin and the ever-present feeling I was letting my mother down by letting my father wallow in a bottle.

Truth is, and the unrepentant bachelor in me cringes a bit in the background as I admit this to myself, I can't even imagine my life without Robin. As for my father, it means more to me to have him back in my life than I could have ever anticipated. Although, I would prefer if for just tonight he wasn't right upstairs while I try to have my first date with Robin in over three weeks. Especially since being in recovery he's already weaned himself off of the addictive and more effective pain killers and sometimes has trouble sleeping through the night.

I grab my gym towel and rub my face with it and grab a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. I lean back against the silver metal door and close my eyes and picture how the evening is going to go. The first thing I'm going to do is take Robin's cell phone and turn it off. Maybe even chuck it off the balcony into the Port Charles River. I hate that damn thing. Every single time we've managed to grab some time together someone calls or, worse, shows up. There's a whole host of characters determined to keep us chaste. Her father, several times, her uncle or her mother who flew in to town and raised the storm of hell on Robin's father, her best friend from Italy, that former hot model who I wouldn't mind actually showing up at her door if someone has to, one of her ubiquitous cousins, especially the newly marrieds who are having problems with the in-laws. Or it'll be the hospital with some medical emergency. Every single time we're alone this happens, and those times are few and far between since I've gone back to work.

I don't know which is driving me more insane, not having Robin to myself or not having Robin. Sue me. I'm a guy with a sexy girlfriend. One who has waited for months to make love to her.

I can't believe I'm using the "g-word" without a gun to my head. And smiling about it.

I toss my gym bag over my shoulder and lope up the stairs.

>>>>>>>>

"It's not too late to get into my car and just drive." I murmur against Robin's ear. Ever since she got here I've been trying to convince her to run off into the night and disappear with me. She's not having it, but since she's letting me toy and tease her as I try to corrupt her I'm not complaining, too much.

"And leave your father alone?" Robin sounded torn just then, giving me a kick of hope that maybe I'll at least be able to get her naked.

"Let your dad watch him. He owes me." Okay, now I'm complaining. I thought that I had made a positive impression on Robert Scorpio during the quarantine, but you wouldn't know it from the evil eye the guy gives me whenever he sees me with his daughter. He even gave me the third degree one day, cornering me at the hospital when I had just come out of a long and complex surgery. I might have said one or two things that pissed him off. I can get a bit cocky after putting my brilliance into action.

"Somehow I doubt you could convince him of that." Robin snorted and closed her eyes as I continued nibbling on her earlobe. "But he likes you."

"You've got to be kidding me. Have you seen how he looks at me?" I unbutton another of the buttons on her blue button down shirt.

"I'm serious. He respects you. He's just keeping you on your toes and trying to impress me by making up for the past fifteen years of neglect."

"He's trying to keep you out of my bed is what he's doing. I swear the man is having us watched." I pull back and narrow my eyes at her. "Where did you tell everyone you were going?" There's no way the doorman to this building is going to be able to keep out any of the Scorpios.

"I didn't tell anyone anything, Patrick. I don't run my life past my Uncle Mac or Robert Scorpio."

"You keep telling yourself that." I snort indelicately in her ear. Giggling, she jerks away and swats at me. Uh oh. I see the exact moment that serious thoughts start invading her head. Since she's never going to let it rest until she expresses it and I'm not going to rest until I've eased her concern so I take her hands and wait. If nothing else, the past few weeks have taught me the value of patience. Even if I don't do it very well or gracefully.

"I know you're not used to this kind of thing." She flushes and looked down for a moment. She's so adorable. "I want you to know that I really appreciate you hanging in there with me. It'll calm down soon, I promise."

"Robin. My father is upstairs not fifty yards away from us recovering from a life-saving that wouldn't have happened without your intervention. We're both busy doctors. Your father just came back from the dead. I can't believe I just said that." I shoot her a smile and push some loose strands of her hair behind her right ear. "I know I've been grumpy the past few weeks because we hardly get to spend time together, but I know that it's both of us who have some stuff to work out. And when we do we're really leaving town."

"That beach you invited me to?" She sighs and scoots closer to me on the couch.

"I don't think it'll matter where we are because I intend to spend every minute ravishing you." Overcome with my fantasy I leaned down and capture her lips in a heated kiss. With easy hands I lift her against me and pull her under me and press myself between her legs. Any blood that had been left in my head after the last couple of hours of constant arousal has now gone south and all I want is to be inside her. To be able to watch her face as she loses herself to me. I know I'm moaning her name like a mantra, but I can't find any of the finesse that I used to be famous for.

"Your father might hear us." Robin gasps out under me. As much as I resent her ability to conjure a coherent thought, I know she's right. I lean my forehead against hers and try to bring my raging hormones under control.

So, when Robin's hand slips into my sweats and wraps around me I arch and gasp in surprise. I look down at her and see the naughty gleam in her eye and I moan out my gratitude.

"You're going to have to be quiet," she warns me as she tightens her grip and pulls her hand up and slides it back down in long and back up again achingly slow strokes.

Sensation. That is all I am feeling. All I can think. I can't think. The only way that Robin can mute the sounds I am helpless but to make is with a frenzied kiss that goes on and on, my tongue thrusting into her mouth in time with the pulsing thrust of my hips. I'm not sure how long it takes before spasms are wracking my body and I'm coming hard. I see stars. When I'm done, I'm still not done. Minor quakes are still shaking my body and her hand is still teasing them out of me when I all but collapse on top of her.

"Oh my god, Robin." I gasp against her hair. I suck in oxygen and lift my head enough to plant my lips once again on her mouth. With my lips and tongue I taste of her and thank her for this gift she has given me tonight. I am swamped and not just with sexual satisfaction.

"I love you, Robin Scorpio," I moan into her mouth without thinking.

I feel her stiffen beneath me and I pull back and open my eyes. As I look into her passion-darkened eyes I suddenly realize what I have said. For the first time.


	16. Robin 9

A/N: There is a one-to-one relationship to feedback and inspiration for this story. Every time I read one of your lovely comments I was motivated to write just a little more of this part. And well, here we are.

Oxytocin is known as the "cuddling hormone" because it causes you to feel a connection and bond with your lover. If you enjoy cuddling with your girl after sex, chances are you know the effects of oxytocin well. (from the Askmen web site)

>>>>>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Robin 9  
>>>>>>>>>>>

"I love you, Robin Scorpio." Patrick's words are barely a whispery moan into my mouth yet I hear them with a surreal clarity. In the next second after the words float away we both stiffen and our dark eyes are wide and terrified mirrors.

"Did you." I stop. I can't believe I'm lying here underneath Patrick with his orgasm still wet on my hand and have just heard words that with every fiber of my being I have believed I would never hear again. I don't even know if he meant them or if it was an oxytocin-induced expostulation. The seconds click by and he still looks shocked and terrified. Is it because he didn't mean it or is he's worried that I won't say it back? Or that I will?

The only thing clear right now is that of the two of us I am the one with experience in these matters and someone needs to take the lead.

"I should go wash my hand."

Okay, wow. That was not quite that I meant to say. I see the hurt flash in his eyes and I grab onto his hip before he can move off of me completely. "Wait. Just wait!" All of a sudden I'm pissed. I mean how dare he dump that on me without warning and then expect a perfect reaction when he doesn't even look like he knows what that would be. "Give me a second here!"

I'm about to run my fingers through my hair when I stop and make a face.

"I guess you really need to wash your hand."

Startled by his droll tone I look into his eyes and see that he is grinning at me. Thrown off by the abrupt change I look at him suspiciously as he unclenches my other hand from his hip and gently pushes me off the couch. He takes a moment to pull up his pants, shoot me a grin and then pushes my unresisting body towards the kitchen. Wary, I don't speak a word. At the sink he pours some dish soap on my hand and turns on the water. He motions for me to get to it.

While my hands are under the spray my mind is going a mile a minute and stuttering at the same time. I begin to think he really meant it. I shoot him a glance out of the corner of my eye and then flick them back to the sink. Holy shit, he did! Before I know it I'm smiling like a loon. Heedless of the water I turn my entire body around to look at Patrick, inadvertently splashing him across the face and chest. I crack up as he rolls his eyes at me and turns off the water.

Well, he needed some cleaning too. Which, grabbing a dish towel, I proceed to take care of. All the while I'm smiling up at him and he's smiling down at me.

"So you love me?" I ask shyly as I run the towel slowly over his washboard abs.

"Yeah. This was not quite how and when I intended to say it. But, yeah."

"So you intended to say it?" He might seem certain now, but I'm still wondering if he knew he loved me before his brain was fogged with chemicals. At his nod I ask the next question on my mind. "When did you know?"

"I knew for sure that morning in your kitchen. When you kissed me." The certainty of his answer takes my breath away.

"Awwwww." I chuckle and drop the towel into the sink and wrap my arms around his torso.

Patrick cups the back of my head and clears his throat. "Is there something you plan to say back to me?" His voice sounds a bit choked. I giggle against his warm, bare skin. "Don't you want to wait for the right moment?" I tease.

"You're killing me, Scorpio!"

With a gentle sigh and look up at Patrick's face. His dark eyes are sparkling with an attractive mixture of amusement and nervousness. "I love you too, Patrick Drake."

He closes his eyes and lets out a relieved sigh. He reaches under my arms and lifts me until I'm sitting on the counter and he leans down right into my face. "Of course you do."

"Really?" I laugh and frame his face with my hands.

"I am irresistible. If you didn't that would mean there was something wrong with you." He shrugs one shoulder.

"And then you'd have to play doctor." I roll my eyes purely for form's sake. "You are, you know. Irresistible. Even when I couldn't stand you I was drawn to you," I admit in a quiet, tender tone.

"Same here, babe." He presses a soft kiss to my lips.

My heart is no longer beating, it's just pulsing. My entire body feels like it's floating. Patrick Drake is in love with me. This gorgeous, kind, caring, sexy, arrogant man is mine.

"Stay tonight," he whispers against my lips.

I want to. I really, really want to. Still, there's a couple of things niggling at the back of my mind that need to put to rest. I see Patrick's smile change and I can tell he knows it. This man knows me so well.

"I don't want to move too fast, Patrick." Before he can say what I know he's going to say I clarify. "I'm not just talking about sex. I'm talking about this love thing. Like you said you hadn't intended to say it tonight and we haven't even talked about exclusivity."

Patrick nods once and his eyes get serious, though his lips are still smiling. "I didn't intend to say it tonight because I wanted the perfect moment, and yeah, part of me was still resisting the final giving up of my wild ways, but I only want you Robin and I want you only with me. And I love you and I will never tire of saying it." As he speaks he is tracing a finger down my cheek to rest over my heart.

Moved, I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath. "You might have been trying to plan a perfect moment, Patrick." I open my eyes and look at him through my tears. "But you found the perfect words." I stroke his face tenderly. "I love you and I'll stay with you tonight."

He smiles and nips at my neck.

"But making love is going to wait until we're away and alone – without any fathers within bursting in or listening distance."

He growls and pulls back to shoot me a mock glare. I can see the sexual frustration in his gorgeous eyes and I know it's reflected in mine. Frankly, if my libido had its way I'd have him right now on this counter, but I'm a planner by nature and I want nothing to inhibit or interrupt our first time together.

"There are other ways to satisfy each other in the meantime."

Surprisingly, it's me who says those words.


	17. Patrick 9

A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful feedback. This is more of an introspective piece than prior parts. Amazing what love does.

>>>>>>>>   
Meddling - Patrick 9  
>>>>>>>>

She glows in the moonlight as if she is not of this world, certainly not someone who should by lying here in bed with me. There are hundreds of things about her that I could cite that make her beautiful, her flawless skin, her dark amber eyes, her pink, perfectly shaped lips, her soft hair, but none of these superficial facets of her explain why I'm propped up on my elbow watching her sleep so I don't miss one moment of her here in my bed for the first time.

I gently push stray strands of hair off her cheek because I don't want anything marring my view of her translucent beauty. I shake my head and chuckle silently at my cheesy choice of words. Before, the only poetry I ever spouted were contrived recitations intended to achieve a certain end – instant gratification of carnal pleasures. Look at me now. She doesn't know that I'm treasuring each beat of her heart, the rise and fall of each of her breaths, the citrus scent of her shampoo. There is no reward other than being here with her. It is enough for me.

The sensory experience of her next to me shows up the lacking of every woman who _came_ before. There wasn't anything wrong with them _per se_, they just weren't Robin and I wasn't in love with them. I always thought those people who claimed that love made a difference in bed were a bunch of geeks who couldn't get laid; or women. Seems the joke's on me. We haven't made love fully yet, but I know that it will be like nothing I've ever experienced before.

Before I have to have myself committed to the sap ward, I have to remind myself that I'm not going to pretend that I didn't enjoy every second of those other encounters. That I wouldn't do it or them again, but for the first time I'm not calculating how soon I want the woman to leave. I'm trying to figure out how to get her to stay.

My hand is going numb and I sit up with a muttered curse as I shake it back to life.

"Patrick?" The whisper in the dark startles me. I turn my head and see my father standing in the shadows outside the bedroom door that Robin insisted we keep slightly ajar so we could hear my father if he needed anything. Not wanting to wake her I roll out of bed and go to the door. I close it behind me before asking him what's wrong.

"I was coming from the bathroom when I heard you." He looks at the closed door and then grins at me. "I take it you're not alone tonight."

I shrug and grin back.

"Glad to see I'm not completely cramping your love life, Son."

"She loves me, Dad." I hadn't intended to say it, but looking into his eyes in the dark hallway I know without a shadow of a doubt that he will understand the significance of what I'm telling him.

He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. "You're a lucky man and she's a very lucky woman, Patrick." I can see tears shining in his eyes.

I stand quietly for a while absorbing his words. The pride I feel he is giving me fills a place in me that has long been empty. Wanting him to be proud is why I wanted to become a surgeon in the first place. I never thought I'd earn it for being a man.

"Why are you up?" I ask. "Is the pain bad?"

"I'm going stir crazy, Patrick. I'm not in pain. Nothing I can't handle," he amends at my dubious look. "It's been." He stops. "I've lost track of time already. A month. It's been a month. I need to get back to work. To life."

"You're here for another week, doctor's orders. Then we'll see if you're ready to stay on your own." I stop and an earlier conversation comes back to me. "Are you going to stay in Port Charles? At GH?"

"Would that be all right with you?" I hear the hesitance in his voice and I wince. When he first suggested it I was adamantly opposed, he was hours fresh of rehab and I wasn't willing to trust in his newborn sobriety. After the epidemic he earned his spot at GH and neither of us spoke about his staying on since by his own design he didn't have much longer to live. We're both of us now facing the prospect of a lifetime ahead as father and son and as colleagues. I realize that I still want that a great deal.

"If you think you can keep up with me." I enjoy tossing out the challenge.

"I know I have a lot to do to resurrect my career."

"Humble does not suit Dr. Noah Drake." Please, really. I learned from the master's knee how to be the most arrogant bastard in the room with the goods to live up to it. This apologetic crap has got to stop.

He laughs quietly and shakes his head. "I guess I have a lot to do to resurrect my cocky arrogance back to your level, Patrick."

It feels good to be sharing a laugh with my father.

"Go back to the woman you love, Patrick."

"What are you going to do?"

"Robin gave me a huge pile of medical journals to catch up on. I'll go start one on drug protocols and go right to sleep."

We share a surgeon's snicker then fall silent, just looking at each other, wary now.

"Good night, Dad." I hug my father good night. He puts his arms around me and holds on tight.


	18. Robin 10

A/N: I didn't expect to do this. Of course, I expected this thing to only be two parts. But, it seems inevitable at this point that the Slut would show up and try to steal the sheen off of Robin's happiness once she got bored playing with the newest infant in her collection. Or the newest tool to make Sonny and Jason pay attention to her. Wah. Wah. And Robin, well, she clearly has personal issues she needs to deal with if Carly is able to manipulate her so easily after all these years. I didn't think I could stay true to the Robin and keep her locked up in the fuzzy, happy land with Patrick. As much as I'd like it. For her and myself, but I digress (hee).

Just a touch of naughty in this one. Use discretion; and if you're too young to do that, don't read past the first part.

>>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Robin 10  
>>>>>>>

"Where's your latest victim? Patrick get tired of you already?" Carly Corinthos, as she was calling herself again these days, says as she props her head on her hand and leans into my space, setting my nerves on edge.

I count to ten inside my head and try to ignore her usual intimidation tactics and go about finishing the notes I am writing in a patient chart as I stand at the nurse's desk. After a minute, I look back up at her still there and smiling in that infuriating way she has with the taunt shooting out of her hateful eyes.

"Did you get bored with the newest kid in your collection so soon, Carly?" Clearly, she just wasn't going to go away until she got some kind of satisfaction and against my better judgment I am unable to ignore her and my pride bristles at the idea of walking away. iI/i work here, not her.

"At least I can have children." She shrugs and smiles malisciously at me.

"Being a slut isn't exactly something to be proud of, Carly. Why don't you go bother someone else?"

"Being called a slut by the sexually repressed and physically incapable doesn't exactly hurt you know." She cackles. There was really no other name for the sound that emanates from her. "Patrick is probably already bored with the challenge and finding someone who can satisfy him in ways you never will. Just like Jason did." Her voice rises up in glee at that last, tired, boast; tired, but still effective.

"You know Carly, bragging about taking advantage of Jason really doesn't do you any favors. It's right up there with bragging about the fact that he hasn't wanted you since." My blood is boiling now, but not so much that I don't know exactly what I'm saying and the effect it will have, which is why I take a precautionary step back before I finish speaking.

In true Carly-trash fashion she snarls at me and tries to physically grab at me over the counter. "You bitch! You start something you want me to finish!" She screeches nonsensically, her face blood red and her over-processed hair flying as she vibrates with rage.

"I'd check that kind of behavior around here." I nimbly step back again and smirk at her. I'm feeling particularly vicious and victorious in this moment and the words are just rolling off my tongue. "How many times have you been committed now? Is third time going to be the charm and we'll be rid of you for good?"

The moment the words slip out of my mouth I feel badly. It's small of me to make fun of her mental health, anyone's mental health. As someone with HIV I understand how devastating the ignorant stigma around mental illness is, but I'm so sick of this witch parading around town like the sun shines out of her ass while she leaves victims strewn in her wake. At this moment I am more tired of that than I am of feeling degraded by the way she always manages to make me lose my composure. Besides, the bitch started it.

"You sanctimonious bitch hiding behind your little counter!" She screeches again and starts to climb up and over the counter.

My eyes widen and I wonder if maybe my comment about another commitment isn't too far off the mark. I can't even understand what she is screaming when she is restrained from behind. I blow out a relieved breath and see that Alan Quatermaine, the Chief of Staff himself is the one who has grabbed her.

It's another minute, and a couple of other male doctors helping Alan, before security shows up and take the still struggling older woman to the psych unit at Alan's direction.

"Call Sonny," Alan tells a nurse before turning to me. "Dr. Scorpio, are you all right?"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Quatermaine." It's suddenly occurring to me that I have behaved very unprofessionally. I rub my sweaty palms on my lab coat and look around to see that I've managed to draw quite a crowd. I start to feel queasy.

"You need to sit down." Alan puts a hand on my arm and walks me away from the center of the crowd and into a nearby exam room where he makes me sit down.

"I'm sure she started it, Robin, but I need to know from you what happened."

I tell him honestly and succinctly, not even bothering to hide my own fault.

"I would never say what that…woman said or did was right or that she didn't provoke you. God knows if it were up to me she'd be in prison for what she did to my son, both of my sons, but you're a doctor Robin. Not to mention a sane, classy young woman. You shouldn't let her bait you."

"She pushes every button I have and I lose my temper." It's not without shame that I make this admission.

"She can only get to you if you don't have clear-cut boundaries."

I know, of course, that what he says is true. My insecurities, my hurt, are mine not hers and if I plan to stay in Port Charles, which I most definitely do, I need to deal with myself. What she says about me shouldn't matter, shouldn't have an ounce of perceived truth that can shred at me.

"If you want to talk to someone about this, work through it, I could make a recommendation…"

"You think I need to see someone?" I bury my face in my hands for a moment. Despite my sense of personal responsibility, I can't help really hating that witch right now. "Is that an order?" I ask plaintively.

"It's not an order, but it will be if this happens again. I don't want anymore scenes in my hospital." He puts his hand on my head. "And I don't want her to be able to hurt you anymore."

"Thanks, Alan." I smile up at him weakly.

After Alan leaves I sit feeling the full force of the embarrassment I inevitably cause myself in my interactions with that woman. It's stunning to me that in everything else in life I think through every possible consequence before acting, but with her, even knowing I'm going to end up here with a sour taste in my mouth, I keep exhibiting the same degrading behavior. I believe that's the perfect illustration of the definition of insanity. Talk about glass houses.

I will do just as Alan advised and conquer these insecurities, get my boundaries in order. Never again, I vow as I stand up to march out there and get back to work, will this woman get to me.

>>>>>>>>>

"Hey, slugger."

I looked up from my computer to see Patrick standing in the doorway of my lab office with an amused grin on his face.

"I didn't hit her." Despite the topic of conversation, I can't help but smile at the sight of him. Since the very first moment we met I've been able to sense a change in the very air when he's present. And damned but if he isn't gorgeous.

"That's not how I heard it." Patrick chuckles as he saunters his way to my desk where he sits himself down right in my space. I breathe in his scent and flash back to the past few nights I've spent in his bed.

We haven't made love yet, but our foreplay, both in and out of bed, has been amazing and I am constantly aching for him. I can see the same in his eyes, along with the self-satisfied knowledge of how much I want him. It's far too late for me to worry about pride so I wait for his next move. It occurs to me for just a moment that Carly really has no idea what she's talking about, but before I can give the thought more attention Patrick licks his lips, a movement that always distracts me, and sticks his hand into the pocket of his lab coat.

"Have I ever told you how sexy you look in that coat?" I asked, leaning back in my chair and crossing my legs, deliberately letting my skirt ride up my thighs. Two can happily play this game.

"I don't believe you have. Just for that, a reward." Out of his pocket he pulls out a small paper bag and holds it out to me. I flash him a gleeful smile and grab it.

"Training me like Pavlov's dog to feed your ego?" I ask as I greedily pull out what I knew would be my favorite chocolate fudge ice cream bar. I make sure to let out a squeal of delight as I know the sound makes Patrick hot.

"My boyfriend is sexy and thoughtful, how'd I get so lucky?" I ask as I open the ice cream and take my first rapturous taste.

"You're killing me, Scorpio." 

Surprised by the ragged huskiness of his voice I look up from my ice cream to see Patrick adjusting his pants over what I know to be a pretty impressive erection and fixing me with his dark, heated eyes.

"Oh, Patrick." I lick my lips and smile at his discomfort. "Just four more days."

"Three. Three more days." He grabs the arm rest of my chair and pulls me towards him and buries his fingers in my hair and tilts my head back before crushing his lips onto mine and kissing me senseless. Our tongues taste and duel right up until I feel the ice cream dripping over my hand.

I pull back with a gasp and begin to lick the dripping sweet cream off my hand, eliciting another frustrated moan from my soon-to-be-lover.

"I can't wait, Robin. Please don't make me wait."

As much as I really, really don't want to wait, I really do. In three days Noah will either be cleared to stay on his own or will go stay with Bobbie, and we're off to stay for a week at the Drake family beach house in Cape Cod. Patrick says it's fairly isolated, which is good because I'm pretty sure that once we start we're not going to be able to stop and I know we'll be fairly loud. Keeping quiet with Noah in the next room has proven to be quite a challenge.

"You can handle it big boy."

He mutters something unpleasant under his breath before flashing me an evil grin. "I have plans for you, Scorpio. Payback's a bitch." He points his finger at me threateningly.

"I can't wait." I slowly slide my tongue around my ice cream bar. 


	19. Patrick 10

A/N: The "Association" I'm referring to below is the American Association Neurological Surgeons who publishes the Journal referenced. Like, who cares? It's the Virgo in me.

Minor naughty rating.

>>>>>>>  
Meddling - Patrick 10  
>>>>>>>

I am a god.

I know, I know, why state the obvious? Anyone who didn't know it before definitely knows it after the surgery I just nailed! That girl was damn lucky that she had that accident when I was on duty. There is definitely going to be a feature article about me in the next Journal of Neurosurgery. In fact, the Association is sure to ask me to speak at the Summer conference about the novel complexities of that surgery. I'm going to have to whisk Robin away with me and make a vacation out of it. I hope it's somewhere tropical with minimal clothing required.

My feet are barely touching the ground as I walk into the scrub room and throw my gloves away. I pause and go for the dunk shot. He shoots he scores! I throw up my arms in a sign of victory. "Yes! And the crowd roars!"

"Must have been a good surgery," Dr. Watkins comments as he walks in to scrub for his surgery.

"Excellent, my man, excellent. Groundbreaking." I clap the older doctor on the back.

"You say that every surgery," he says as he unwraps a scrubber and turns on the sink with his foot.

"Ah, yes every surgery I perform is groundbreaking, but this one was particularly impressive." I rub my hands together and set the tone to tell him just why I'm a surgical god.

"You want to see impressive? You should have seen what Dr. Scorpio did today. I wish I had. Damn, I never knew Dr. Scorpio had such fire." Dr. Watkins shakes his head.

Say what? I frown at him. What kind of research could Robin do that showed how fiery only I know her to be? In fact, the only three times she ever shows passion is over a patient, over me and over…

"I heard she nailed that mafia princess right there at the nurse's station and the woman had to be taken away on a stretcher and admitted. I would have loved to have seen that! I'm so sick of how those mafioso strut around this hospital like it's their private infirmary."

"She did what?" My jaw drops. "To whom?"

"The woman who has those kids with that mob boss Corinthos, his ex-wife. I hope they don't go after Dr. Scorpio. Maybe Dr. Quatermaine should beef up security around here? You might want to watch your back too, Drake."

I ignore his warning and rush out to make sure that Robin is all right. I'm flying down the hall when I see Dr. Quartermaine standing outside his office talking to someone else. "Is she all right?" I demand, not caring that he's otherwise occupied. 

"Slow down, Dr. Drake, before someone really does get hurt." Dr. Quatermaine pushes me into his office. "Dr. Scorpio is fine."

"What about Carly? I heard she was admitted with injuries?"

"She was admitted, but to the psychiatric unit under a twenty-four hour hold for observation. She's been deemed a danger to others and probably herself. No punches were thrown, though she tried."

"What the hell happened?" I let out a relieved sigh and run a hand through my hair. I know Robin would be kicking herself if she actually hurt someone, even Carly. She's still going to be upset, though. She can't stand losing control.

"The usual for Carly, she saw Robin and decided to bait her. Robin got her back up and answered in kind and Carly lost it."

"Those two." I shake my head. "Has it always been that way?" No one, Robin included, has given me the full story of what happened between Carly and Robin, but Dr. Quartermaine seems incensed enough about Carly that he might.

"It's been this way ever since Carly got her hooks in my sons and destroyed their lives and the lives of others, including Tony Jones, Bobbie and Robin."

"What happened?" I sit down on the couch.

>>>>>>>>

Dr. Quartermaine didn't disappoint me and as far as I could tell I got a pretty thorough recounting of Carly Corinthos' history in Port Charles as it related to his sons and Robin. Now, my skin is crawling at the very idea that I ever tried to sleep with that woman and my stomach is churning with disgust that ever used her to annoy Robin. I walk into the locker room, not only to wash up after my surgery, but because I actually feel dirty. I also need to get my head together before I see Robin.

As I stand under the spray, my arms up and my hands spread out on the tile in front of me as the spray cleanses my body, I can hardly believe Robin ever spoke to me again after that stupid kiss. I should have gotten a clue that day in the Metrocourt lobby, but my mind was more focused on seeing Robin so passionate and impressed that she gave as good as she got to really hear anything but Robin's HIV status. Looking at it now, the fact that Carly would have used that in a fight should have been enough for me to stay away from her. I was pissed off enough about it at the time, but later all I wanted was to get Robin's attention and I didn't think how my tactics would make her feel. I was such a dick.

I need to make this up to her. The first thing I can do is make sure that the woman never again gets close enough to Robin to even breathe her air. Then, I need to find some way to help Robin realize that she does and has always deserved better than how those scum treated her. It makes me sick that I saved the life of that hitman. If I had known how he had taken advantage of Robin's loyalty and her generous heart, of her grief and her heart, I would have let him die on the table. She would have been worth the only surgical failure of my career.

Hell, it wouldn't have been a failure at all.

>>>>>>

When I get to the lab I lean back against the door frame and watch her working at her computer. If I hadn't heard what had happened I wouldn't have known anything had happened at all. She has such amazing control, at least most of the time. It's kind of disturbing, actually, because it leaves me guessing a lot of the time as to whether she's upset about something; she's not the best communicator. I think I'm getting pretty good at anticipating her reactions, but after everything I've heard today I worry even more that I'm going to hurt her inadvertently in some way again and never know it.

"Hey, slugger."

She looks up and I feel a kick in my chest as her eyes light up and her lips curve at the sight of me. How could anyone not treasure her?

"I didn't hit her." Her droll tone makes me laugh as I saunter into the room, giving her the full display of my deliberately sexy walk. I plant my ass on the desk right next to her and lean in to get a bird's eye view down her blouse. As I do, I hear her sudden intake of breath. She so wants me, which is a good thing since I desperately want her too. This waiting is driving me insane.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the treat I've gotten her. I was so proud the first time I gave her an ice cream bar that I had sussed out the only flavor she liked. I especially loved the smile and that sexy squeal she made. Watching her eat it wasn't bad either.

"Have I ever told you how sexy you look in that coat?" My naughty little girlfriend asks with a purr in her voice as she leans back in her chair, deliberately causing her skirt to ride up and show more of her thighs. I knew the first time I met her that she had it in her to play in my league.

"I don't believe you have. Just for that, a reward." I hold the bag out and grin at the delight that lights up her face as she grabs it from me and lets out that squeal I love.

"My boyfriend is sexy and thoughtful, how'd I get so lucky?" she asks right before putting her luscious lips around the top and taking a bite. Then she closes her eyes and lets the ice cream melt on her tongue before swallowing. The look on her face is the same as the one that she has when I bring her to orgasm. I can't wait to be inside her and see that.

"You're killing me, Scorpio." I shift around trying to relieve the pressure in my pants. It's getting really warm in here.

"Oh, Patrick. Just four more days."

She actually licks her lips and bats her eyelashes at me. Enough is enough. "Three. Three more days!" I grab the arm rest of her chair and pull her until she's between my legs and then I bend down and cup her head and tilt her back so that I can finally taste her. Robin and chocolate is my new favorite flavor. Did I lock the door?

All of a sudden she pulls back. I open my eyes and blink. I'm about to ask her what'd she do that for when she lifts her hand and begins to lick dripping ice cream off her hand.

"I can't wait, Robin. Please don't make me wait." I'm pleading. I have no shame. I have no blood in my head, either.

"You can handle it big boy."

I mutter something I hope she can't hear, but then a feeling of deep satisfaction curls in my stomach. I'm so going to make her pay for teasing me like this. There are three more days until the appointed time. Three more days to drive her insane until she's the one pleading. "I have plans for you, Scorpio. Payback's a bitch." I point my finger at her and grin.

"I can't wait." Then she slowly slides her tongue around the ice cream bar in a blatantly lewd manner.

If that's how she wants to play it I am more than up to the task. 


	20. Robin 11

A/N: I've written and re-written this part four times. I'm not sure that this is exactly what I want, but I'm driving myself nuts. This has a little bit of everything. By the way, I really hate Jason Morgan and want Robin to not have anything to do with him. If you couldn't tell.

Thanks for all the wonderful feedback and encouragement! 

>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Robin 11  
>>>>>>>

This answers every curiosity I ever had about what Patrick Drake was like as a horny teenager.

It's with affectionate eyes that I watch Patrick pouting and grumbling under his breath across the Monopoly® board from me. He's been this way since sometime during dinner when it became obvious to him that his earlier promise to get revenge on me was going to be thwarted by the presence of his father as chaperone. Since then, and instead of asking his father to give us some privacy or trying to work around it, he just keeps pointedly glancing at the clock and then back at Noah, while Noah pretends not to get the hint. Then Patrick pouts some more. The last few hours have been vastly entertaining for both Noah and me.

"Your turn," Noah prompts his son who grudgingly picks up the dice and rolls.

I know it's not very sporting of me, but when Patrick once again lands on the "Go To Jail" box I can't help but let out an audible giggle. In my defense, Patrick's own father is having a hard time keeping a straight face as Patrick drives his car game piece to the proper square and mutters invectives under his breath. At my laugh, Patrick looks up and glares at me and I have a very strong feeling that if he wasn't so competitive he would have long ago quit this game and stormed upstairs to his room to sulk. And do what horny teenage boys do when they're alone. Patrick is not a very good loser, in any context.

Now, I could jump into the breach and quietly ask Noah to go to bed so that Patrick and I could have some alone time, but it seems as churlish of me to do as this is the first night that Noah has felt well enough to stay up with us after dinner. Still, despite Patrick's increasing frustration, this is the first time since the epidemic that I've seen father and son interacting with each other without the underlying animosity and awkwardness that has defined them for so long. It's the proverbial second chance come to pass, although in a slightly different setting than I ever imagined. You just can't imagine how heartwarming is it to see Patrick glare at his father when Noah offers to sell him a get out of jail card for the bargain trade of Atlantic Avenue to fill out Noah's monopoly.

I smile widely at Patrick whose dark eyes are now shooting daggers at me.

Yes, this is Patrick at fourteen, I'm sure of it. Truthfully, I find it pretty endearing and I'm not sure there's anything this man could do that I wouldn't find sexy.

"Does anyone need a refill?" I ask as I stand up from my seat at the dining room table. The kitchen has been my safe haven all night. I go inside, close the door and quietly let out some suppressed laughter, then bring out more drinks and snacks. It's been a perfect arrangement.

"But it's your turn," Patrick says, sitting in his chair with his arms crossed and glowering at the game board.

I swear that tears of laughter are going to be running down my face in a second if I don't get out of here.

"You know I think I'll just go to sleep. We can finish this game tomorrow night." Noah has apparently decided to cut his son a break. He stands up and puts a hand on my shoulder and winks at me.

"Fat chance," Patrick mutters under his breath loud enough for all of us to hear.

"Good night, Robin. Good night, Son."

At the sound of his father's good night, Patrick seems to finally snap out of his mood. "Good night, Dad." My heart skips a beat when I see the softness in his eyes as he looks at his father. It's not a heartwarming hug, but it's enough to melt my heart. And Noah's too because he smiles at his son with a look in his eyes I've only ever seen him exhibit when Patrick wasn't looking.

"Good night, Noah."

After Noah disappears up the stairs Patrick just sits staring at his hands, a thoughtful look on his face. I walk over to him and press a kiss to his head and walk into the kitchen to refresh my herbal tea. I know he needs a few minutes to himself.

Before my tea bag is done steeping he comes up behind me and wraps an arm around my neck and shoulders and rests his head on top of mine.

"This was nice, wasn't it?" I ask.

He grunts and buries his face in my hair.

"I think you're father enjoyed himself." I press.

"He kicked both our asses at a board game, what's not for him to like?" He sighs. "I behaved like an ass didn't I?"

"I think the latter is why your father enjoyed himself so much." I laugh and lean back against him and look up into his face. "You weren't being careful with him."

"I'm sure it gave him flashbacks." Patrick rolls his eyes, but seems cheered up.

"You're not angry with him anymore are you?"

"I have my moments, like when he's deliberately hanging around to cramp my style," he says lightly before nailing me with a heated look. "You were enjoying yourself at my expense way too much. You know the night is still young and I will still have my revenge." To prove his point he slides a hand down the front of my t-shirt and cups a sensitive breast. From behind he presses his arousal into my back.

"Oh good," I sigh and arch into his touch.

"It's not really revenge if you like it, you know." He nips at my ear. Just as I turn and raise my face for a kiss his cell phone starts ringing in the other room. He lets out a frustrated huff of air and goes to answer it.

Minutes later he's rushing out to the hospital to operate on a patient who has unexpectedly gone critical, leaving me now to be the frustrated one.

I so cannot wait until we're out of town together.

>>>>>>

"What's wrong?" Liz walks up to me holding a pile of files in her arms.

I'm standing at the nurse's station having just hung up the phone. I had just been talking to my father who called to tell me he was leaving Port Charles to go see my mother in London and assuring me that if she let him live he would be back. I'm relieved that he's finally facing her, but part of me wants to be there and play referee like I always used to. Part of me is also relieved that I won't have to play that role.

"Parents." I shrug and we share a knowing look. "My father is going to London to see my mother. She could very well shoot him." I say this last part matter-of-factly, because in the Scorpio-Devane family it is just a matter of course.

"And you're worried." Liz has become such a good friend since I've come back to Port Charles. I love that Lucky has married such a wonderful woman and that I get to work with her.

"I am, but it isn't going to do me or them any good so I need to just forget about it."

"Then how about coming to lunch with me? I just need to drop these off and then we can go get some fresh air. And you can tell me how it's going with you and Patrick."

At the mention of his name I am all smiles again, which thrills Liz to no end. I can tell from her expression that she's about to ask me a salacious question, but just then Jason comes barreling out of the elevator with his familiar "I must rescue Carly" expression on his face.

"Robin, you have to help me!"

I do? For the first time ever I feel a jolt of annoyance that Jason seems to assume that I went to medical school so I could be at his beck and call and that this is pretty much the only use that he has for me in his life anymore. Not to mention the fact that he doesn't care that he might be interrupting me or Liz. Still, I am nothing but polite, partly because I know from experience expressing how I feel isn't going to make a difference and partly because I am marginally responsible for Carly being tethered to a bed in the Psychiatric Care Unit. "What can I help you with?" I ask.

"You have to get Carly released." This misguided demand is no surprise.

I hear a small squeak out of Liz, as if she was going to say something but thought better of it at the last moment. I know how she feels. Both of us have been down the Carly comes first road with this man. She, fortunately, gets to busy herself putting charts away while I'm left dealing with Jason alone.

"I don't have any authority to do that, Jason. I'm not a psychiatrist."

"Just tell then she's not a danger," he says impatiently.

"It won't make a difference what I say, Jason." I don't bother to say that I don't necessarily think it's true either. The twenty-four hour hold she had been under has been extended to seventy-two hours and I know they wouldn't be able to do that unless there was cause. The law does not mess around with civil liberty except in the clearest of cases. I also heard that some hot shot psychiatrist from a downstate clinic has come up to consult.

"You did it for Manny Ruiz, against my wishes, but you won't …" He starts arguing with me, but I stop listening. His anger causes me to take a mental step back and really look at him.

"Do you even care that she was trying to attack me?" I interrupt to ask the question that's foremost in my mind and has been for a really long time.

"That's just how Carly is." Comes his rote answer and with it I feel relieved of any guilt I may have been able to muster at not being able to help him help her. It is in this moment that I really feel the irrevocable line dividing our past from my present. I no longer feel compelled to fight the hold Carly has had on him since he really was a boy with no past and blank slate for her to write on, which she did, indelibly.

"She's not my patient, Jason. You need to talk to her doctors." I force myself to turn and walk away, leaving Jason standing there looking stunned, pissed, blank? I don't care to know anymore and that makes me sad. Liz lingers behind for another second before joining me and we walk in step down the hall, neither of us speaking. There is, after all, really nothing else to say.

>>>>>>

"Where do you want to go to lunch?" Liz asks me as we walk out of the locker room with our purses ten minutes later. Both of us seem determined to not touch on the confrontation we just walked away from and I am very glad. I'm sure I'll second guess myself a thousand times later, but just now happy thoughts seem to be the order of the day.

"How about Kelly's?" As we're walking I power on my cell phone and see that I have a message from Patrick. Giddy, I open it up and stop in my tracks with jaw dropping shock.

Patrick Drake is a very naughty boy. He does not play nice.

"What?" Liz asks as she looks over to see what has riveted my attention. "Attention" being the key word, because before I can recover myself to act fast enough Liz is seeing a disturbingly clear photo of my boyfriend standing at, well, attention.

"I can't believe he did that! Hot!" Liz yells down the hall, at least it seems like a yell to me, and as my face gets redder and the next picture pops up I notice a couple of doctors and another nurse turning to look at us. I press the phone to my chest. "You are a lucky woman, Robin," she says in a loud whisper.

"I can't believe he did that," I whisper back, grab her arm and rush us towards the elevators.

What he's done is use his camera phone to take pictures of himself coming out of the shower and email them to my phone. Patrick apparently takes his vengeance very seriously and has a way with technology, as well as women and surgery. Apparently, his only weakness is board games.

I am a very lucky woman.

Two more days. 


	21. Patrick 11

A/N: I think I might be going off the rails in this story. It started as more of an internal exploration and now I realize that lately things have been getting more external. I'm not sure if this is organic (no, I don't mean that word like a certain horrifying ABCD head writer who uses that term to refer to the dung she writes does!) to the story or if I've lost steam. You the reader(s) need to let me know!

There's some cussing in this.

>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Patrick 11  
>>>>>>>

"You're making me a cliché, Drake."

"How exactly am I doing that?" It's thirty minutes since I finished my all night surgery and I'm sitting here with my legs up on Robin's desk drinking her good coffee and giving the blond haired, blue eyed goddess sitting in front of me an unconcerned smirk. Dr. Beth Porter could never be a cliché.

"Because now I have to ask who is this woman that's managed to capture The Rake's heart. See, Fabio will be here any moment." I watch in amusement as Porter taps her painted nails on Robin's coffee mug and sneers at me in annoyance.

"Do lesbians even read romance novels?" Amusing factoid I'd never thought about before in my extended contemplations into the activities of lesbians. Activities, sadly, I could never convince Porter to let me watch live while we were in med school together.

"Sure, for the heroine. Look, I'm going to lose patience with the evasions, Drake. I came all the way up here to the boondocks last night for you. I deserve some scoopage."

"I appreciate the effort, but I'm the one losing patience, Porter. You owe me here, remember?"

With one last irritated glare, she finally gets to the point. "All I can tell you is that it's a solid case, as well as an interesting one. We don't need the publicity, but it wouldn't hurt to have her."

"Does that mean you can get her admitted to your facility?" I drop my legs and lean forward. We were finally at the meat of the matter. Dr. Porter was not only a damn good psychiatrist, but she also runs a mental health facility downstate that has credentials impressive enough for Carly's mother and it had strong enough security to hold on to her. Porter had already convinced Dr. Winters to let her consult and I had filled her in on what I knew about Carly's toxic history.

"I do understand you're trying to protect your lady love, but that can't sway my professional opinion. And I can't discuss private medical records with you, you know that."

"If I didn't trust your professionalism, Porter, I wouldn't be sitting here chatting with you when I could be home crawling into bed with said lady love. If the woman is medically off her nut and is still a danger then you're the person I trust to keep her locked up. She shouldn't be roaming free to hurt anyone else." After a measured pause I continue. "Well, her ex-husband and his brain-damaged lackey I don't care much about, but the innocent people." I still can't believe I almost slept with a homicidal maniac, although in my defense I didn't know it at the time.

"That sounded almost heroic. Who are you and what have you done with the real Patrick Drake?" Porter leans forward and pins me with her sky blue gaze for a moment. "You've grown up, Drake. I never bought that I don't care about anyone bullshit anyway."

"Look, I fucked up here. I didn't know what I was getting into and I'm trying to make it right." I don't know why, but something in the words I'm saying makes me quiver inside. I take a sip of coffee to wet my throat and try to get my bearings back. I'm probably just tired.

"Even if she never knows you were involved?" She stands up and leans over the desk to kiss me on the cheek. "Love looks good on you, Drake. Just make sure you invite me to the wedding."

"Shit!" I choke on my coffee and look at her like she's the one out of her mind.

"I'd be worried if you changed all at once. Can't wait to meet the future bride," she said before walking out of the office laughing.

After Porter leaves I sit for another few minutes at Robin's desk. It's already too late to rush home and climb into bed with her and seeing her getting ready for work is only going to drive me insane since my father is still in the next room, so I'm not in a hurry. And truthfully, I'm feeling a bit light headed at the moment and I know it's not just the fact I haven't slept in two days.

With my stomach now going all sorts of directions, I put my coffee aside and prop my elbows on the desk and bury my face in my hands. I am quite aware of how typically male it is of me to freak out at the mention of marriage and weddings, but if I'm going to it's definitely best I do it now while I'm alone. I don't want to hurt Robin for anything, but I'm just coming to terms with being in love. Hell, we haven't had sex yet. How can I be expected to suddenly reconcile to the fact that I'm coming to think that deep down I've always longed for the kind of relationship my parents had when I was growing up and that I think I could actually be good at it?

All of a sudden I sit up and slap my hand on the desk. This is just one of Beth's classic mind-fucks and I fell for it. Damn, I lean back in the chair and look in grudging admiration through the door she was walking through as she delivered her last bombshell. She's good. Shaking it off, I stand up and pull the bag I had hidden earlier out of drawer in Robin's desk. From inside I pull out a white rose and put it down on Robin's chair and finally head home to her.

>>>>>>>

As I expected, Robin and my father are in the kitchen having breakfast when I let myself into my apartment. I mentally cringe when I see the Monopoly® game from last night is still set up on the dining room table. I swear, we are not revisiting that debacle tonight. With a chuckle, I continue through to the kitchen. If Porter had seen me last night she would definitely rescind any diagnosis of maturity.

"Good morning, Son." My father is the first to see me. He is, I observe, looking pretty good. Healthier than I've seen him look in years.

"How are you feeling?" I grab a piece of toast off the center of the table and sit down in a seat and run my eyes over Robin's hot body. Maybe I should have surprised her in the shower this morning after all, I muse as I crunch on the dry toast.

"I feel great. Robin's taking me with her to the hospital for my check up."

Really? That gets my attention and I turn to look at my father. "I thought that was tomorrow." As I wait for an answer I see him and Robin share a sly look

"I moved it up." Is all he says.

"Is that a good idea?" This I ask of Robin since she's apparently involved. At her nod I continue. "And does that mean you'll be with Bobbie a night earlier if you get the all clear?"

"Not that you want to get rid of me or anything, but yes," my father says dryly.

"I just couldn't take a rematch in Monopoly is all." I bite my lip as I smile at Robin. Could we actually be so lucky? Could I actually be _getting_ lucky tonight?

"We still have to work tomorrow," Robin says. "You have surgery scheduled."

"Uh uh. That's the one that went critical last night. I don't have anything scheduled." I take the piece of toast Robin put my favorite grape jelly on for me. "What say you?"

"Excuse me. I think all this concern for my well-being is choking me up. I'll meet you downstairs, Robin." Despite his word, my father is clearly amused by my carnal focus and shoots me a smirk that has "that's my boy" written all over it before he leaves the kitchen. Robin, however, is looking exasperated that I could be so callous. I'd forgotten how cute she looks when she's exasperated.

"Come on, Scorpio. You have something up your sleeve. You just couldn't handle two more days of not having me." I point at her, toast and all.

"Yes, that's exactly it. I told your father that I was so horny that he needed to rush his recovery just for me." The fact that she flushes profusely as she says the word "horny" takes away any impact she was probably intending and totally cracks me up.

"You're incorrigible." She throws her hands up and starts gnawing on her toast rather than try to talk to me while I'm doubled over with laughter.

"What's the reason for the early check up then? Don't tell me that my father is the one who's eager to leave and go stay with Bobbie." At her expression I stop laughing and stare hard at her. "Oh my god, he wants to get laid!"

"Patrick!" Robin admonishes and I see her hand jerk as if she almost threw her toast crust at me.

Who knew that a simple breakfast could be so fun? "I love you, Robin."

Touched and irritated, Robin closes her eyes and shakes her head. "You drive me crazy, Patrick. You really do." She opens her eyes and her eyes are now full of tenderness.

"Back at ya." I wink and take another bite of the toast she made me.

>>>>>>>>

One long hot kiss and one long hot shower later I'm standing in my towel looking at the neatly made bed with one side, my side, turned down that Robin left for me this morning. I can't believe that I missed spending a night with her and missed an entire night of payback. I know she'll find the rose today and think of me, but it's not quite the level of evil that I had threatened. I look around the room to see if I can get any ideas of what I can do….

My thoughts trail off as I see my cell phone on the dresser. With a wicked laugh I pull off my towel and grab the phone and walk back into the bathroom.

I know just how to get her "attention."


	22. Robin 12

A/N: Thank you to everyone who expressed their opinion about whether I was losing my grip on this narrative. It means a lot to me. It's hard for me to be a good judge of my own work. Every time I look at it I have a different opinion. This part took forever and many, many re-writes. Ugh. I hope it works.

A/N2: The flower I have chosen here is deliberate. White roses stand for a few things - most notably "I Am Worthy of You." A single rose in full bloom stands for "I Love You, I Still Love You." And a thorn-less (dethorned!) rose stands for "Love at First Sight."

A/N3: For you youngsters and non-NYers, 976 numbers were bill-by-the-minute naughty telephone numbers on the New York Telephone system. They were big in the 1980's. It's 0898 in the UK (I write because I'm an anglophile and that factoid being apropos of nothing).

>>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Robin 12  
>>>>>>>>

As I walk back to my office after my lunch I decide that this is rapidly turning out to be one of those days I should have, right from the getgo, locked myself in the lab and buried my head in all those thick, dense textbooks Patrick teases me about. Lunch was a disaster, the perfect follow up to the sad and awkward scene with Jason right before it. I blow out a breath and wait for the elevator to get to the labs basement.

At the time it seemed like a great idea for Liz and me to enjoy the fresh spring air and head to Kelly's to meet up with Lucky. I always enjoy going there because no matter the time of day there's someone there that I don't get to see often enough. Today, Nikolas came along with his brother and Mike was working. I was thrilled to see them both at first, but midway through the meal an argument broke out about Baby John and Lucky had to physically remove his brother from the diner. It was just grief talking because at the heart both men are simply broken up about Courtney's death. I don't even think they actually dislike each other or even disagree; they're just venting the best way they can find right now. I tried to console Mike after Nikolas left, but he soon disappeared himself. I'm afraid that he's hiding himself in a bottle. I tried to call Sonny, but all I got was his voice mail.

This is odd, I note as I turn on the light and walk into my office. Sitting at the edge of my desk is my Yale coffee mug and it's half full of cold coffee. I look over and see that the coffee pot is half full too. I could swear I cleaned them both out last night. It's pretty much a habit. Maybe I was in such a rush to meet Patrick that I forgot? Or maybe someone in the lab did it this morning, someone who wears, what is that? Barbie pink lipstick, I note as I hold the mug up to the light. My team is usually good about cleaning up after themselves, though. Well, the computer is password protected and the paper files are locked so I'm not too concerned. It's annoying, but not alarming.

I take the coffee pot and mug into the small kitchen we're lucky enough to have in the labs basement in order to clean them out. As I rinse the pot under the hot water my earlier exchange with Jason suddenly starts playing through my mind. It comes at me so vividly that my hands start to shake and I need to put the pot down so I don't break the glass. I brace my hands on the edge of the sink and close my eyes.

Back when it was happening, when Jason and I were facing each other in that hall, I felt so clinical, so detached, like I was watching it all through a microscope. As it's playing through my mind right now I feel the emotion that was missing before. It's like I'm dropping down from the top of a roller coaster. I feel like I've done something irrevocable, something I desperately want to take back. Sheer panic is overloading my senses and I sink down onto the floor and rest my head on my bent knees.

I've finally let go of Jason Morgan and the girl who loved him.

I rock forward and back again, trying to catch my breath. It feels like something essential to my identity has been wrenched from me. This is what it felt like when I realized that the daddy who loved his little girl first and best was a fairytale. I feel a punch of grief as I say goodbye to the boy with no past and the girl with no future. Tears are running down my cheeks, soaking into the cotton of my pants.

All of a sudden I hear a crashing noise from a nearby lab and I'm jerked back into awareness of where I am. I wipe my cheeks with the sleeve of my black jacket and stand up and finish washing the pot and getting fresh water for a new pot of coffee to get me through the rest of the day.

Work is the best thing to lose myself in right now, it always has been. It's not a hardship today because I'm excited to be working on the protocols for a new round of trials I'm starting in cooperation with a clinic in Geneva for the drugs I used on Jason. I'm certain that the tweaks I've made in the last few months will improve its efficacy dramatically. If this works we can start applying for government approvals for other doctors to begin using this combination.

I walk behind my desk to turn on my computer. As I go to sit down I see something that brings a smile to my face and the queasy feeling in my stomach turns to excited butterflies.

I reach down and lift up a single white rose in full bloom that has been very thoughtfully stripped of its thorns.

Patrick.

I close my eyes and breathe in the lovely scent and think of him and realize that I'm wrong. The best thing to take my mind off my past is my present. I sit down and pick up my desk phone and dial.

"Hello, Dr. Scorpio. How come you're not calling me from your cell phone?" Patrick's husky, humor-filled voice lifts my mood another notch.

"Damn, I thought I was calling a 976 number?"

"Calling me to talk about telesleaze, Robin? Have I completely corrupted you already?"

"It was the cellular porn that pushed me over the edge. I'm going to be wearing my leathers to work from now on. Bye bye good girl Robin." I grin and sniff my flower.

"I don't know whether to be happy about that or worried." He actually sounds seriously uncertain about the conundrum. I always knew that he liked to get a rise out of the good girl. Or got a rise from her. Okay, he iis/i seriously corrupting me.

"Thank you for the flower, Patrick. I really needed it today." My words are more wistful than I had intended and Patrick picks right up on it.

"Rough day?" His low, husky tone sends shivers down my spine. This guy is seriously sexy. I sigh and lean back and consider the question. "It's had its moments, but it's looking up." I twirl the flower by its stem, breathing in the scent the movement releases. "Liz thinks I'm a lucky woman, by the way. She was with my when I got your probably illegal messages."

"You're just short, not actually a child so I think your Uncle Mac won't have to arrest me. She's right you know," he says, not one iota abashed.

"You have no shame."

"Pointless really when you're as blessed as I am with good looks and a big…"

"You're unbelievable!" I interrupt with a bark of laughter.

"I was going to say heart, Robin. Really, dirty mind you have."

"I bet you were and if I have one it's your fault." I am feeling a thousand times better than just five minutes ago.

"Would you like another present now?"

"Is this more the flower kind or more the pornographic kind? Don't tell me, a life size naked poster for my office door?"

"Close!"

"Now, I don't know whether to be happy or worried." Suddenly there's a knock on the door to the hallway that I hear in stereo. I hang up the phone and go open the door.

Standing there with his phone still at his ear is the very sexy Dr. Patrick Drake. His brown eyes are glowing and his overly gelled hair is pointing out every which way.

"You're wearing clothes," I say with pretend disappointment. Mostly pretend.

With a growl he pushes me into the office and closes the door. He crosses his arms and looks down at me sternly. "Is that the thanks I get? Excellence is supposed to be rewarded you know. That flower was a very excellent boyfriend present."

"And the photos? Is that more like pimp excellence?" I roll my eyes and walk back over to my desk. I sit down on the corner of my desk and anticipate his witty rejoinder.

"Does that mean you're taking cash now, Dr. Scorpio?" Laughing, he sits down in the chair in front of me and puts his hands on the arm rests and looks expectantly at me.

"What?" I spread my hands out palms up. "What are you looking at?"

"Why the rough day? Come here." He holds out his arms.

With a quick look to see if anyone in the lab can see us I settle myself into his lap and loop my arms loosely around his neck. "A run in with Jason. Nikolas and Mike had a fight about Baby John while we were at lunch. They're both so sad about Courtney." I stroke a hand down his face, reveling in the feel of him very much alive.

"What happened with Jason?" I didn't particularly want to tell him about it, but I was trying to be better about communicating what was going on with me. I'd hoped he'd let me brush over it, but it was a faint hope. I bite my lip and think for a minute. I want to choose my words carefully.

"Jason and I broke up a long time ago. I'm not in love with him anymore."

"I know, you said it under oath. I knew you wouldn't lie under oath, not even to save face." Patrick smirks as he says it.

The man knows me well. Knew me so well, even back then. "Even so, I've always felt there was some kind of connection between us because of the history we shared."

"You came back to save his life because of it." Patrick toys with my hair, his brown eyes still looking unconcerned.

"No, that's not it. Everyone thinks that, but I would have done the same for anyone. It just so happened that the person who needed what I could do, or thought I could, was Jason. And so you know I didn't move back here for him either."

"No, that was for me." He bites his lip and winks. I roll my eyes and move on.

"I thought that we'd always have a soft spot for each other based on what we once shared, looking at him today I just realized it wasn't true."

"What changed? What happened?" he asks softly.

"He came up to me demanding I help him get Carly released and I realized that I don't really register with him and that I didn't owe him anything anymore. Neither of us are who we once were. Those people are gone, that tie is over." I sigh and toy with the top button on Patrick's shirt.

"Robin, he suffered a hypo-perfused frontal cortex and he's suffered more damage since. You've treated it, I've operated on it. It's no reflection on you." I heard the unspoken "jerk" in his voice and it made me smile a little bit.

"I know his ability to connect is limited. Maybe he doesn't have room for more than a few people at a time and I'm no longer one. It's not an ego thing." I study Patrick's face, looking for any sign that he is bothered by how I'm feeling. I don't see anything in his eyes but understanding.

"If you need to be sad about it, that's okay." There he goes again, shocking the hell out of me. I remember when I thought he was a shallow jerk and every once in a while he'd say something so insightful or empathetic and I'd be so surprised. It's part of why I started falling for him right from the start.

"After that hellish lunch I came in here and saw your flower." I stop and press my forehead against his. "I'm still a little sad about the past ending, but really happy about the present." I stroked his face. "You're my present."

"Better than flowers and porno?" He licks his lips and gives me sultry eyes.

"Hey, I want a package deal. Flowers. Patrick Porn. And you. Your heart." I lean in and sink myself into a long, tender kiss. 


	23. Patrick 12

A/N: Thanks for all the great feedback! Today's show made this part kind of tough to do because it was a harsh reminder that Patrick on the show has not evolved as much as Patrick in this story. Robin, too, for that matter. They're still so judgmental and impatient with each other. Thank goodness for fanfic.

Naughty rating.

>>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Patrick 12  
>>>>>>>>

"If you need to be sad about it, that's okay."

Despite look of adoration in Robin's eyes, I have not suddenly become Mr. Compassionate Boyfriend. I'm simply smart enough to have figured out what she needed to hear; my reward is the softening of her eyes and the easing of the tension in her compact body as she settles into me. I know I'm going to get a kiss soon. Maybe even get to cop a feel before she remembers we're at work.

It's a much better result than, say, if I came right out and said that the hitman is not worth her pain. I do that and she bottles it all up and I spend the start of our vacation trying to break through that wall of hers, getting frustrated and annoyed in the process. We have some new routines I prefer. Like the one I'm going for now.

The one where we'll kiss, I'll cop a feel, she'll get all proper because we're at work. She'll be flustered and trying to pretend she didn't enjoy it. I'll smirk and make some cocky statement that irritates her. She'll snap at me. I'll smirk again and try to steal another kiss. There'll be some token resistance before she gives in just enough to drive me wild and then push me away with a smug grin. She's happy. I'm happy.

It works for us.

"Hey, I want a package deal. Flowers. Patrick Porn. And you. Your heart." With those soulful words, she leans in and we sink into the anticipated kiss. I run my hands up her back and pull her into me until I feel her small, firm breasts lift and press against my chest. Mmmmm, she tastes so good, despite the salt of the tears she wasted on that jerk.

Okay, I can't let this go. I really don't get it. She and Jason broke up eight friggin' years ago and the guy is not only a thug, he's a brain-damaged asshole who cheated on her and still treats her like dirt! Five minutes after saving his life I wanted to punch him for how he made her feel. It frustrated the crap out of me how she just used to stand there and take it like she was his doormat and then she'd have the nerve to look down her nose at me when I didn't dance in attendance to the local mafia wannabe.

It wasn't a complete loss for me, though, since that was how I eventually figured out she really wasn't in love with Morgan anymore and was digging on me. She doesn't let me get away with anything. I love it that she gets all hot and bothered when I annoy her. Ah hell, I love it when she gets all hot and bothered.

Testing to see how far she'll let me go, I continue to lazily dance my tongue with hers and I glide my hand up her lean body and under her bra to cup her firm breast. I muffle her gasp with my lips and tilt her head back with my other hand as her breast swells and tightens against my palm; as do I against her hip bone.

"Robin," I moan into her mouth. I don't know if I'm begging her to stop me or to let me ravish her right in this chair. It was my plan to drive her wild before our trip, but I'm the one losing control here as she rocks against me, her strong fingers pulling and grabbing at me. All I know is that one of us needs to stop this or we're going to do something totally unprofessional. When she moans again and presses into my hand I know it's not going to be me.

Disjointed thoughts and sensations are rushing through my brain. The softness of her hand. Are the blinds facing the lab closed? The sweetness of her scent. Did I lock the door? The heat pouring off her body burns my fingers, seeps into my body. Do I still have a condom in my wallet? How old is it? Oh my god, that noise she's making. Robin.

I wrap my hands around her waist, but she anticipates me and lifts up so she can slide her legs around my hips and straddles me. My system stutters. With not one iota of finesse I jerk her jacket off her shoulders and drive my hands under her shirt and unclasp her bra. While she's strains into my erection, I shove her shirt and bra up just enough to bare her taut nipples to my greedy mouth. The buttons of her crumpled blouse dig into my forehead as I greedily lave and nip one aureole, then another and back again. She arches into my ministrations with a greedy keen. The heat and wet of her smothers my pulsing arousal, her hands claw at the back of my head, my shoulders.

"Robin. Robin. Robin," I pant.

I push her back to make enough room for my fingers to make contact through her pants with the spot between her legs that elicit the little gasps and squeaks that filled my bedroom that one night and have haunted my days since. I feel her starting to quake on my hand, that's it, just a little more. I am swallowing her sounds with my mouth, urging her on, pushing her over.

RIIIING

"Dammit!"

"Oh my god!" Robin jerks away from me so fast she almost falls on the floor, but I grab her just in time. Despite my utter frustration I can't help but chuckle at the horrified look her face and the picture she makes as she scrambles to pull down her shirt and bra, untangle her legs and grab the phone.

"Damn impressive, Dr. Scorpio," I mutter as she mostly succeeds and answers the phone before it stops ringing.

"Hello? Oh. Um. Oui, Je suis Docteur Scorpio," she greets as she tries to smooth down her hair and figure out why and how her bra is now tangled outside the bottom of her blouse.

As she continues to talk in her unaccented French, I am achingly aware of my unsated need. With a pained sigh I close my eyes and think about the coming baseball season to try and calm my tumescence enough to be able to stand up and lurch out of here.

After a few minutes I stand and bend down, mentally cursing the ache in my balls, and pick Robin's jacket up from the floor and drop it on the chair. I watch her sift through some files on her desk and continue her conversation. She's still mussed from our recent activity, but I have already been dismissed. With another sigh, I lean down and press a kiss to her hair and let myself out.

I guess I'll tell her later that my father got the all clear this morning and I've already helped him settle into Bobbie's brownstone.

In the meantime, I need to do my rounds, meet with Eric to bring him up to speed on the cases he'll be covering for me, hack my way through a mound of paperwork and meet with Porter to see what's going on with her case. I want that woman out of town before Robin and I get back from the Cape.

Then I'm going to go buy another box of condoms. Our vacation starts tonight. 


	24. Robin 13

A/N: They'll get there, they'll get there. You didn't think she'd go quietly did you! Well, I'm sick in bed this weekend for the laptop, so there'll be something sooner rather than later to follow this up.

>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Robin 13  
>>>>>>>

As I zip up my suitcase a daunting thought occurs to me. I pause with the bag half closed and sit down hard on my bed.

I am about to go on a week long vacation alone with Patrick Drake.

The key words being "alone" and "week." Seven days. Six nights. I think this might have even been my idea? What the hell was I thinking?

Taking a trip together is a really big relationship test and Patrick and I have only been dating for a couple of months. During that time we haven't exactly had a lot of alone time together. Virtually none. The longest trip we've ever taken alone together is probably about a twenty minute car ride – counting red lights.

This might be way too soon in our relationship for this.

Because, let's face it, Patrick and I are like oil and water on a good day. What the hell is going to happen over seven days of us being in a house alone together? We're going to Cape Cod, it's not like there's a lot to distract us from being housebound together. This has all the makings of a cheesy horror movie. Oh my god, another thought occurs to me, he's going to want to spend the entire week in bed. He's hot, but I'm going to go postal without something intellectually stimulating to do for that long. Maybe he won't notice if I sneak my laptop into my suitcase? Yeah, right.

This is what Robin Scorpio looks like when panicked, I think as I look at myself in the mirror above my dresser.

There are endless things we could disagree about or get annoyed with each other about and historically speaking we don't handle conflict very peaceably. There's the small stuff – toothpaste caps on the counter and not on the tube, towels on the floor and I just bet that Patrick is the kind of guy to leave his bed unmade. I can't stand that!

I can't sit still. I get up and start pacing.

Then there's the big stuff. I'm sure that I'm going to drive him nuts with my need for precision and organization. I can't quite think of anything specific right now, but that's because I'm used to myself. I'm sure that my control freak tendencies will drive him crazy, they pretty much already do except we haven't had sex yet so his hormones make him put up with it. And while I've grown to adore his narcissistic, jackass tendencies, I usually get to stomp away and escape his presence for a while before he riles me up again. This whole housebound idea seems dumber and dumber as my panic increases.

Aw geez, what if he wants to watch stupid television programs? Like talk shows where people admit to having sex with their transvestite brother-in-laws? Or those dreadful sitcoms with the perfect family where someone, usually the hapless man, does something stupid and someone, usually the ball-busting woman, needs to teach him a lesson? Oh, gag.

And what if I suck in bed? He's had a lot of experiences, I haven't.

Or worse, what if _he_ sucks in bed? What if because he's always been a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of guy he only has a few moves? Or what if he gets really awkward in the after part and says or does something stupid and then I get hurt and furious and we fight? That could definitely happen!

Then we're stuck eight hours from home together. Why couldn't we have booked a night at a hotel somewhere a cab ride away? Or his apartment now that Noah has moved out?

I stop pacing and stare the bedside phone. This would be a good time for one of those interruptions so that we can't go. Nothing like a virus outbreak, but, something! My father could be back from London and need to talk to me desperately because my mother has planted a bomb on him or in him?

I'm staring so intently at the telephone willing it to ring that I jump out of my skin when the doorbell rings instead.

With a shaky hand over my stomach I walk to the door. Maybe I'll get sick? Oh please, let me puke and get out of this. I open the front door and stare mutely at an obviously exuberant Patrick.

"Ready?" he fairly skips into my place, a big grin on his face. He's dressed in jeans and a brown t-shirt with just a black leather jacket thrown over it.

He looks effin' hot.

"One second!" I shoot him a smile and rush back into my bedroom.

"You can do this, you can do this." I cover my face with my hands and force myself to take deep breaths.

"Um, Robin?"

Startled, I spin around. I didn't hear him follow me. Of course, that's because I was too busy trying to breathe.

"What's wrong?"

I'm about to open my mouth to utter a bald-faced lie when I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I've gone from a mild look of panic to a look of absolute terror. I'd laugh at myself if I wasn't so, well, terrified.

"Well, the thing is, um, we haven't exactly spent a lot of time alone together, Patrick."

"Yes, Robin. That's why we're going away alone together," he says very slowly as if talking to a moron, which he might very well be at this point.

"Vacations are pretty serious. Stressful for couples." Wow, what oratory glory that was.

"Robin, are you having cold feet?" Patrick is not doing a very good job at hiding just how amused at me he is. That pisses me off, which in turn settles a lot of my panic.

"Patrick, have you ever spent more than a weekend with a woman?"

Patrick opens his mouth to answer me. He shuts it before a sound comes out. He finally gets it. This makes me feel a lot better. I bite my lip before I can ask him if he's suddenly got cold feet. Urges like that are exactly the type of thing that are going to cause us to kill each other before the week is out.

"Does Club Med Hedonism count?" He clears his throat and slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

"Probably not." I feel more than a twinge of jealousy as I imagine a barely clad Patrick Drake sexing it up on a beach with a different woman every night. Probably a different one in the afternoons too. And brunch, I'm sure he didn't leave out brunch.

"Well, then no." He shrugs. He's clearly not going to be of any help in realigning these plans of ours.

"So it doesn't worry you that we've never spent this long together before?"

"Are you afraid that one of us might not come back alive?" He smirks.

"The thought did occur to me that I might end up killing you or seriously maiming you." Like right now, for instance.

He walks up to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. He leans down and looks me right in the eye. "I want to spend a week alone with you Robin. I can't wait."

"We can't spend the entire week having sex, Patrick. What the hell are we going to do for a week? That's seven days."

"Have you ever taken a vacation before?" Patrick asks, brushing over the sex question and my needless definition of how many days there are in a week.

"But…"

"Just answer my questions." His voice is so patient it makes my teeth ache.

"Yes."

"Have you ever gone on vacation with a man before?"

"Yes."

"For more than a weekend?"

"Yes." Hmmm, good point. But those men weren't Patrick Drake and they didn't make me want to either tear my hair out on a regular basis or hand over the whole of my heart.

"Do you like me?"

"Like you like you? Like Winnie Cooper and Kevin Arnold? I think we established that already."

"No." Patrick rolls his eyes and chuckles. "Do you like me as a person?"

"Of course I do. I couldn't love you otherwise." I grin up at him. "You're good." I get where he's going now. We're not just lovers, almost, we are friends. Somewhere in the middle of my panic I forgot that.

"I've been telling you that since we met. Are you ready to leave now?"

"Just one more thing." Since he's still leaning down all I need to do is raise my face in order to wrap my arms around his neck, press my body into his and slide my tongue into his mouth.


	25. Patrick 13

A/N: Yes. Finally. No children please.

Thanks for all the excellent feedback. I really appreciate that you take the time to let me know what you like about the story.

>>>>>>>>   
Meddling – Patrick 13  
>>>>>>>>

"I still say we should have christened the plane."

We're on our way from the airport in Hyannis to the beach house and I'm being deliberately annoying because I can feel Robin getting more tense as we get closer to our destination.

"I'm not having this conversation with you again." Robin rolls her eyes and looks out the window on her side of the car.

Good, that way she can't see my unrepentant grin. I'm gorgeous, but I'm not stupid.

"I'm sure the stewardess wouldn't have minded."

"Flight attendant! You really do enjoy annoying me, don't you?" She whips her head around to glare at me.

"If I think you need it." I shrug and smile even wider.

I know I allayed most of Robin's fears back at her apartment, but I know she's still worrying about how we'll come out of this week together. I, on the other hand, have no worries at all. It's ironic, but fitting, that the very things that are making Robin worry tell me that it's going to work out very well. This very situation is a prime example.

Imagine what it would be like if Robin was here with another worrier like herself? Exactly, they wouldn't be here at all. Now, imagine I was coming here for a week with some woman just as overconfident and unconcerned as I am? We'd probably end up bored of each other before the week was over – that is exactly why I never went away with a woman for more than a long weekend. I can honestly say that Robin has never ever bored me, not even when she's sleeping.

I know it surprises people that I'm not at all freaked about spending a week alone with a woman given my track record, but they're missing a very obvious point - I know what pleasures me and I go out of my way to set things up for maximum pleasure. Being with Robin pleasures me. It's that simple like me and sensible like Robin. Ain't that beautiful?

"Need it? You think I ever actually need to be irritated?" She crosses her arms.

"Fire to melt some of that ice, remember?" Before she can answer I announce that we've arrived and turn into a hidden driveway and press a button on the key chain dangling from the ignition to open the gate.

"Robin you're not about to face a firing squad. Though having met your father I imagine you would find that easier to deal with." I hold my hand out in the dark car.

"I'm not nervous." Despite her denial I hear her take a deep breath before she slides her hand into mine. I place our entwined hands on my thigh as I drive down the driveway to the house.

"It's lovely, Patrick." She turns back to me, her eyes showing her pleasure at the big wooden beach house. I could tell her the history and facts about the property, but I don't care about the house, not today. I turn off the car and press a kiss to her hand and turn to face her.

"Ready?" I smile and make sure to catch her eye. Once she's facing me I caress my hand down her cheek. "We're finally alone." I lick and bite my lip, watching in delight as he eyes drop to my lips and back up again. "I love you, Robin."

She takes another deep breath. "I love you, Patrick." This time it's her who squeezes our entwined hands. "I'm ready."

I lean forward to take just a taste before I have to let her go. Robin has other plans. With her free hand she slides her fingers into my hair and opens her mouth under mine and slides her tongue over mine. As I sink under her spell I have a brief flash back to our first voluntary date when I lectured her on kissing techniques and identify this one as a kiss of sexual attraction. Hot, deep and hard, but slow and sensual at the same time. Our lips are soft and sliding over each other even as we delve and move together. I'm drowning from this kiss.

I drop her hand and cup the back of her head with both of my hands and press her back into her seat. I'm not even aware that I'm climbing over the gear shift towards her until I feel her hand pushing into my chest. After a couple of shoves I pry my lips from hers. Panting I tell her, "Inside now."

Oh thank god she doesn't panic or argue with me.

I scramble out of the car, grabbing the keys out of the ignition and rush to her side of the car. She's already out so I grab her hand and laughing we rush up the steps together. I open the door and slam it close, pressing her up against the door with my body.

"No more interruptions." It's an order and a plea.

"None." She pushes my leather jacket off my shoulders and I let it drop to the floor. Then things speed up and we begin pulling and shoving at each other's clothes, all the while diving into to each other for more kisses and touches.

"Wait, wait." I pull back and look at her. She takes my breath away. Her lips are wet and swollen from our kisses, her eyes wide and dark with desire. She's still in her black bra and panties, her hair mussed like she's already been ravished. It makes me want her more. I didn't think that was possible. I brace my hands on the door on either side of her head and lean in. "Bedroom. I'm taking you to the bedroom."

She nods and jumps up and wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist.

Laughing, I catch her and try to keep my balance. I almost trip over my t-shirt and she laughs again into my neck. As I turn and head up the stairs right behind us she's already sliding her tongue over the shell of my ear. The touch goes right to my groin.

We burst into the master bedroom and I put one knee on the bed and lay her down on her back and settle myself between her legs. The next while is a haze of sliding fingers, tongues and our remaining clothes flying off the bed. The only sound thought I have is to grab the condoms I had slipped into the front pocket of my jeans when she went to the bathroom on the plane and slide them under one of the pillows.

My next clear awareness is of her naked above me. It's clear she's just as surprised by where and how we've ended up. We stop groping and grin at each other.

"The phone isn't ringing, Dr. Drake."

"There's no one at the door, Dr. Scorpio."

"No father in the next room."

"No father with a gun anywhere in this state, I hope." I cup the breast I've already thoroughly given my ardent attentions to.

"Then." She stops and reaches behind my head and pulls out a condom and waves it in front of my face.

I have to say this is a novel experience, all this laughter and teasing in bed. The fact that it's not decreasing one bit the ache I have to bury myself inside her is the first thing to surprise me about all this.

"Will my lady?" I ask and bite my lip and then laugh as she bounces – bounces! – on top of me and opens the condom packet. Charmed, I watch and see what she's going to do. I gasp as she get right to work sliding it over my throbbing erection. Then she leans forward and puts her hands on either side of my head and before I can say or do anything she's easing her hot, tightness over me.

I moan, trying not to surge into her. I stare into her beautiful, glowing eyes as she settles over me. She's so tight. My hands are gripping her waist. "I'm afraid, Scorpio, that this is going to be very, embarrassingly quick." At my words she closes her eyes and explodes around me. I surge up and deeper into her and do the same.

Mere minutes later we're wrapped in each other's arms and shaking with the force of our release. She moves off of me and curls up against my side. I find some tissues and carefully discard the used condom.

We lie there silently for a while. I'm not sure if I should actually be mortified or apologize because it's clear that she got pleasure. I feel like I'm fourteen again. So much for impressing her with my manly technique and experience.

"I was afraid of this."

"Of what?" I turn to look at her. She glows in the moonlight coming in from the window behind the bed. Her beauty takes my breath away.

"That the real reason you never stuck around with one woman is because you suck in bed."

My eyes widen and I'm about to defend myself when I see the amusement dancing in her eyes. "Oh, so that was that panic was about back at your place." I tickle her at her waist and pull her back on top of me. "It's your fault, you know. I haven't been celibate this long since I was a teenager."

"So you were backed up." She giggles into my neck.

"Well. I figured we might as well get that first one out of the way." I trace my fingertips over her naked body, loving it when she shivers and shifts against me. "Then I could take my time ravishing you for the rest of the night."

"Yeah?" She moves so that her lips are hovering over mine. "Are you iup/i for that?"

I take her hand and wrap it around the proof that indeed I am. I moan as she caresses me.

"Are you up for it?" I cup her face.

"Definitely."

I roll over and pull her underneath me. This time, I'm in charge.

>>>>>>>>

"Our stuff is still outside." She tells me, rather unnecessarily since we're walking down the stairs naked except for scavenged linens.

I bend over and pick up my jeans and leather jacket and put them on. "I'll go get the bags while you find us some sustenance. I had the kitchen stocked suspecting that we might not get out to go shopping. But before you go…" In a lightening move I grab her around the waist and pull her to me for a heated kiss.

She melts into me, letting the sheet drop to the floor.

"I need food, Robin," I groan into her neck at the sight of her deliberate provocation.

"Did I wear you out?" She rubs herself against me seductively.

"Three times, already. You're going to be sore and I'm going to pass out from hunger." I bite my lip and grin down at her. Good thing I bought that extra box of condoms today.

"You're crude!" She pushes me by the shoulder and pulls out of my embrace and begins walking to the kitchen, still naked. "Would you get my robe out of my suitcase?"

"I wasn't planning to get you any clothes!" I call out and stand there watching her until she disappears through the dining room. Then I look around for the keys to the car.


	26. Robin 14

A/N: Thanks for the great comments, glad you're enjoying the vacation as much as Patrick and Robin have so far. I'm feeling more in the mood for angst than happy couple stuff, so I hope this isn't too boring. Thought it was probably something that Patrick and Robin actually need to address.

>>>>>>>   
Meddling – Robin 14  
>>>>>>>

_Je n'sais quoi _

There's just something about that area of a man's hips when he has well-defined stomach muscles. Watching Patrick at the stove finishing up the meal that I started, I seriously want to run my tongue over this area of his body. I wonder if that that would surprise him?

There's also definitely something about a lithe, strong man clothed only in jeans. Growl. Even his bare feet are sexy. In short, there is not one single inch of Patrick Drake that I don't want to run my tongue over again.

This is quite startling to me because it's only been about fifteen minutes since we last made love. I can honestly say that I've never felt this much lust for a man before. I'm beginning to think that a week isn't long enough.

I'm leaning back against the counter in the short, black silk robe that Patrick handed to me when he came back into the house. There's probably a bunch of other things I could be doing – setting the table or unpacking our bags – but I find that all I want to do is study this incredible man finishing our bacon and eggs.

"Like what you see?" he asks, his back still turned towards me.

I smile and continue my mental drooling. Who is Patrick Drake? Top neurosurgeon, the son of a legend and a legend in the making himself – though he would say he already is. He is, as he once told me, educated, intelligent, a good conversationalist and cultured. He is also cocky, arrogant, irrepressible, irritating, often abrasive and confident. But then he's also sexy, humorous, caring and thoughtful. He makes me feel alive just by being in the same room with me. He is, in short, the man I love and cannot get enough of, in and out of bed.

"Hope you're hungry," Patrick says as he adds some potatoes to the mixture. Oh definitely.

As I stalk over to him, I briefly wonder if I'm unnerving the man with nerves of steel. I like the idea, I admit as I put my hands on his waist and slide my fingers over the spot I have been quietly contemplating for the past five minutes. "Robin," he groans my name. That's me, I think as I slip my small fingers into the gap between his waist and jeans and wrap my hand around his growing arousal. "Robin," he moans again and surges into my hand. "I'm going to burn…" he trails off when I run my tongue in light circles on his back.

"Turn it off," I order as I use my other hand to open the buttons of his fly one by one.

"Robin, what are you doing?" He puts his hands over mine and stills my actions.

"I would think you of all people would know that." I grin against his back.

"You don't have to do this," he says softly and turns around and cups my face.

"What?" I look up at him like he's sprouted wings.

"You don't have to try to…do all this just to please me." The man actually blushes.

I'm not sure whether to be mortified, amused or insulted. "Was I doing it wrong?" I settle for a mix of all three and pull out of his hold.

We stand there and stare at each other. I'm waiting for some kind of sense to Patrick stopping me from seducing him and Patrick looks like he's searching for the same thing. A fact which settles my blood some. Was I not just wondering if Patrick would be surprised by how quickly and how much I want him again? I can't very well fault him if he actually is.

"The food is burning. I'll go get some plates." I step back, sweep my eyes over him standing there still full and aroused and confused and shoot him a smirk. "Go on, finish." I dart my eyes below his waist again and then back up to his eyes. "Cooking."

Five minutes later we're sitting at the kitchen table digging into slightly burnt bacon and eggs. Every so often I feel him glance up from his plate and stare at me. Halfway through his dish, Patrick drops his fork on the table.

"I was trying to be thoughtful."

I look up at him, trying not to laugh at the affronted tone. "If you don't finish that it's going to get cold," I say and calmly continue eating.

"Robin!"

At his pissed off tone, I sigh and put my fork down, lean back in my chair and look at him. "You have something you want to say?" I fold my hands in my lap and let my eyes linger obviously on his sexy, still naked torso sitting just around the corner of the table from me.

"I know I've given you the impression that I have a very large sexual appetite, but I want you to know that I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with because you think I expect it or need it." I can tell that he's given this a lot of thought and thinks he's being very reasonable. It's pretty sweet actually.

"How many times did we make love tonight, Patrick?" Rather than just coming out and telling him that he has nothing to worry about, I figure that live illustrations might just be a quicker way to convince him.

"I'm sorry, Robin. I didn't stop to think …"

"Patrick!" I hold up the palm of my hand. "Did you get the impression at any time tonight that I was not a full participant in our activities or that at any point I felt pressured?"

He thinks and then shakes his head.

"Have you ever known me to do anything I don't want to do?"

He looks at me hard and then begins to grin. He shakes his head again.

Now that the light is starting to come on over there I allow myself to have a little fun. "Have you not told me too many times to count how sexy and desirable you are?" I roll my eyes at his nod. "And how much I wanted you? Is it not possible that you were actually right and that you have gotten really, really lucky and chosen a girlfriend who might have as insatiable an appetite as you?"

"I don't know. Have I?" He leans forward and licks his bottom lip and grins at me. His dimple makes me melt.

"I think, Dr. Drake that you might just have gotten that lucky." I grin back at him.

"I knew you were peeking at me that first time you burst into the OR." He reaches over and grabs my hand and begins to stroke it and gives me a heart-stopping look.

"Peeking? You stood there right in front of me showing off your wares." I snort.

"You wanted me," he singsongs and tugs on my hand.

"No, Patrick, I want you right now." At my words all teasing leaves his eyes and he licks his lips again. I see him studying me, contemplating. Then in a rush he brushes his dish off the table and looks at me, challenging.

With a happy grin I knock my setting off the table as well and stand up and open my robe and let it drop to the floor. I stand there, feeling the breeze, but also the heat of his eyes as he looks me over. "Right now, Patrick," I repeat and walk over and straddle him. "Do you think you can keep up?"

"I think, Dr. Scorpio that I just might be able to." He stands up and lowers us on to the table and dives in.


	27. Patrick 14

A/N: Now I'm ready for some happy Patrick and Robin. Just a short one. I can't believe I now have 2 stories. Oy.

>>>>>>>>>   
**Meddling – Patrick 14**  
>>>>>>>>

She wants me. A lot.

I grin like a loon even though I'm picking up bits of eggs, bacon and broken plate off the floor. Even though the aforementioned girlfriend is looking at me like I'm crazy I can't stop grinning. I'm happy, so sue me. The fact that I've fallen in love with and committed myself to a woman who not only intellectual stimulates me and captivates me by her mere presence, but also has a, so far, insatiable lust for me makes my freaking night. Year. Decade.

I have to admit that I had certain assumptions that being in a relationship might limit my sexual expression. Okay, why am I being polite in my own head? I was worried that if I committed myself to one woman I wouldn't get laid enough; which in turn might cause me to be cranky and dissatisfied and do something stupid. Not cheat, because I would never do that, but look a little too hard elsewhere, pick fights? I was especially worried about Robin in this regard given what I perceived to be a certain sexual reticence on her part. Even the loosest women I've been involved with have had trouble keeping up with. But apparently once Robin is able to love and trust her partner…look out. Nympho!

I let out a triumphant laugh as I toss the trash away.

"You're so unbelievable." Robin shakes her head and goes to the closet to grab a broom.

"No, honey, you're the one who's unbelievable!" I shout after her. "Four times so far!"

"Are you going to count the entire week?" Robin looks like she doesn't know whether to laugh or groan. I've always found that expression on her face to be sexy.

"I brought fifty condoms, we have to keep track so we don't run out at a bad moment." I mentally congratulate myself for picking up that extra, hopeful box this afternoon.

"I brought twenty-five." Robin blushes and kicks the dust shovel across the floor at me. "Fifty." I hear her mumble under her breath.

"So, if we did if four times since we got here, what, two and half hours ago, and we have six more days here.."

"Do you have to do the math? Are you going to make a schedule too?" Robin covers her eyes as I grab the broom.

"Oh, did you want to make the schedule? I know how you like to organize things."

"This is seriously not a turn on, Patrick." She tightens the belt on her robe, but I can tell she's lying so I just plant a kiss on her head before I put the broom and dust shovel away.

"Are you still hungry?" she asks. "For food."

"I'll be good until morning," I say and wrap my arms around her. "I'm glad we're here."

"I think we established that, already."

"Not just for that, but alone together. Just you and me. No interruptions. I enjoy spending time with you."

"Well, we'll know one way or another. And if we annoy each other we can always just have sex." She shrugs and puts her arms around my waist.

"That's supposed to be my line." I push the hair off her forehead and tilt her face towards mine. "Are you still worried?"

She looks at me, assessing. "No. I actually like you, Drake."

"Good thing, because your stuck with me. Now, how about we go back to bed?"


	28. Robin 15

A/N: The angst on-screen begs for relief. I'm one torn up Scrubbie. This is just a short bit of fluff. I couldn't resist. There's curse words. About The David in Florence, yeah, that's true. 

>>>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Robin 15  
>>>>>>>>>

Shagged and shagged well. My mother would probably get a kick out of the very British thought running through my mind as I stretch out on the bed. Our bed. Mine and Patrick's bed.

Well, technically, it's the Drake Family Bed or something like that, not "our" bed, but for this week it's our bed. And we are using it well. And often.

I have to say, I never expected this. Not given my…well, I'm not going to dwell on my past or my medical status. Why should I? I'm with a man who doesn't dwell on either.

How in the world did I get so lucky? How in the world did I get to think that I was ever lucky to meet Patrick Drake! At least in this context is makes sense – the shagging context. The first time I met him he was shagging some blond nurse on an OR table as "prep" for surgery. Did I ever admit even to myself before how flocking hot he looked? So intent, sweaty and buff. Something inside me went to jelly even as I was righteously storming around like he owed me something. My bluster in that moment amuses and astounds me. I don't think I'll ever admit either to Patrick. His ego is big enough.

Then he got off that table like he was hot shit, which he was, and paraded his manly, naked glory for me. I mean, I've seen The David in Florence and Super Surgeon Patrick Drake inspired that same kind of surreal sexual awe. Damn. My heart was pounding so fast and I know that I didn't even flinch. I was quite proud of myself. But damn, I wanted my hands on that man. I hadn't felt that way in years, maybe never. I hated him for it. I mean, really, really hated him. Because he was such an egotistical, patronizing asshole with a body and a face that I wanted to throw down.

Seriously. I did.

Me, Robin Scorpio wanted to order Patrick Drake back onto that table and crawl on top of him. Of course, I would have ordered him to not talk because most of what he says actually detracts from his attractiveness. At least back then. These days, he could read the back of a cereal box and make me swoon. In fact, I had him do just that this morning. Before we shagged again. On the dining room floor. Neither of us wanted to clean up soggy cereal from the floor.

I feel my face heating as I finally admit all this to myself. Blushing and smiling, another big part of the few days we've been here in what I like to call heaven. No responsibilities, no trauma, just unadulterated pleasure, which is right up Patrick Drake's alley. No one does pleasure quite like him, no one I've met. And I've met all sorts living in Europe. Hmmm. I guess what I mean is that Patrick does pleasure in a way that I can relate to. Not like the hoity-toity too much money trusties in Europe who do freaky things for pleasure just because they can afford it. I've never felt this free.

Not to bring thoughts of Jason into this bed, but I thought that being with Jason was freeing. I see now it was just hiding. There were some good times, but mostly it was me hiding from reality, hiding with the only person I thought would accept me infected with HIV and the first person I could stand being around after Stone left me. Real freedom is being with Patrick.

Patrick who insists on letting the bowl of ice cream melt fully with the hot fudge and then sucking it off the spoon like soup. Patrick who will sit for hours building sand castles and then laugh uproariously when the rising tides knock them down. Patrick who reads my novel to me rather than letting me go off and hide out by myself – and does all the voices while doing it. Patrick who gives a killer foot massage with those strong surgeon fingers. Patrick who makes me feel beautiful and desirable with every touch, every glance.

"You're not going to cry again are you?" Patrick asks as he walks into the bedroom with a tray filled with all sorts of fun foods for our lunch. Today he insisted we have lunch naked in bed. He's not bothered by my tears, especially since he rightly assumes they're all about me treasuring him. I do. I do treasure him.

He sits down on the bed, puts the tray down between us and holds out a fresh strawberry for me to bite.

How did I get so lucky?


	29. Patrick 15

A/N: Remember, this is a guy thinking. Intelligent, cultured, but a guy. Short bit of Patrick's musings on Robin and their week together.

>>>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Patrick 15  
>>>>>>>>>

I never thought Robin Scorpio could be so fun.

I mean I love her. I respect her. I've enjoyed her company almost all the time since we met – I love the way she gives as good as she gets, though I could live without the lectures even though she's usually right. I think she's the strongest, most compassionate, intelligent and beautiful person I have ever had the honor of knowing next to my mother. Her body is amazing and I am aroused just looking at her, smelling her scent, hell, just thinking about seeing her. She's been a constant in my fantasies since the moment we met.

I just didn't think she'd be fun. Fun in the way that we haven't stopped laughing and playing for an entire week. I mean fun inside and outside of bed.

That woman has some serious talents in bed going on. I don't know if they were there before me or if I've brought it out in her – she tells me it's me – but my mind stutters when she touches me. All that amazing control I gained over years of practice, forget about it. It was, and I hate to admit this, kind of alarming the first few times it happened, her making me lose control like that. Now, I crave the way she makes me feel. A lot. All the time. I don't know how I'm going to walk around in scrubs at the hospital with a constant hard on. I'm never going to be able to take off or leave my lab coat open. Small price to pay for having a siren for a girlfriend.

And outside bed I'm just as amazed by her. I figured we'd have some great conversations, interesting banter, some laughs. We'd enjoy some intellectual pursuits and I'd do my best to get her to loosen up and show me the giddy girl who told me about her aborted concert scheme with Stone every once in a while. We'd spend a lot of time having sex. But we've been like two little kids reliving, maybe living for the first time for her, our childhoods.

Sand castles, melted ice cream, board games (albeit with sexual favors as prizes), cartoons. Everywhere we go is a race, except for when we're slowly walking together hand in hand or body to body. We play in the waves, we've joined volleyballs games of other vacationers – she has a mean spike for someone so small. We make fun of sitcoms and talk shows on television together. She lets me read to her and do funny voices and she's not even humoring me, she loves it! I want to indulge in something and she's right there with totally getting into it, it's not forced. She's even initiated some of our most dopey activities, like we spent a couple of hours today making paper airplanes and sailing them all over the house and off the balconies! Could anyone have ever pictured that!

I am seriously addicted to this woman in every way. Even if I wanted to avoid falling just as in love with a woman as my father was with my mother I couldn't. I don't even want to. I seriously can't spend the rest of my life without this woman.


	30. Robin 16 Adult Warning

A/N: Nothing but smut. With love. ADULT rating.

>>>>>>>>   
Meddling – Robin 16  
>>>>>>>>

There are tons of sayings and famous quotations about time.

_Time heals all wounds. _

_Time changes everything. _

_Time flies when you're having fun. _

_Time is the most valuable thing a man can spend. _

_There is ever enough time, unless you're serving it. _

I have one of my own – there is never enough time to spend with Dr. Patrick Drake.

He's done it, I am now president of _his_ fan club. We're loosely holding hands over the gear shift as we drive to the Hyannis airport to go home and I'm giving serious thought to having t-shirts made. For Patrick, not me, to wear, that says, "I Belong to Robin Scorpio."

Amazing how much can change in six months. Even more amazing is how much can change in a week.

Six months ago I was in Paris living a limited life. I loved my work, but it consumed me. I had some friends, but no one to spend my birthday with. Brenda and my mother were closer, but not even in the same country. I was lonely, sad and trapped. Now, I love my work, though it still consumes me. I'm back home surrounded by my friends and family at every turn. I have a boyfriend that is wanted – perhaps had – by a majority of women and who I am mad about. I am surrounded by love, happy and free. There are no limits.

Eight days ago making love on Jax's plane was unthinkable to me, not making love on the way back is unthinkable. It's perfectly understandable from a psychological perspective, it's an urge akin to the one people have to have to gorge before embarking on a diet. It just works for me to have a perfectly sound psychological reason why Patrick Drake is going to be naked the moment we get on the plane.

"You have that lascivious grin again," Patrick accuses gleefully from the driver's seat.

"Do I?" I asked, though I clearly can't stop grinning.

"Ye-e-s." Patrick stretches the word out. "That particular grin is the kind that's going to have me pull this car over." He turns and looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

"Actually, this is the kind of grin that should have you speeding up and getting to that plane a.s.a.p."

Without a word Patrick steps on the gas.

>>>>>>>

"Now, about that grin." Patrick grabs me by the waist and plops us down on the plane couch, with me in his lap the moment the door closes, my back towards him.

"Mmmmm. What about it?" Patrick is unbuttoning my shirt as I lean back into his chest. His erection is pressing urgently into my backside. "I'm sore," I complain.

"Poor baby." He uses his thighs to spread mine and slips a hand between them to gently strokes me. I suck in a breath and lean my head back. "I'll just have to make it better."

"Do we even have any condoms left?" I moan and press into his hand.

"I think we might have a few." His chuckle vibrates though my whole body, which feels amazing. "But you're sore." His voice has not on ounce of sympathy and a full measure of seduction.

"Patrick." I reach down and press his fingers more urgently against me. I am sore, but I don't care, that's how addicted I am to this man. I know if I don't get a handle on this soon I'm going to commit some seriously unprofessional acts in our place of work. I've given myself permission to not deal with it until we reach Port Charles.

" Does Dr. Scorpio need something?" He whispers in my ear and then begins to nibble the fleshy part.

"Please." I am past pride, past pretense. My fingers itch to unbutton my jeans, but I can tell that Patrick wants to guide me, us, on this last fling.

"Good girl." He unhooks the frontal clasp on my bra with one hand and pushes it aside and begins to tease an aching nipple. His lips move from my ear and down my neck to my shoulder, which he accesses by using his hands briefly to push my shirt down my arms.

"We have fifteen minutes," I remind him after he does nothing but play on me for five minutes – not that I don't completely enjoy it. I fully expect him to ignore me or taunt me, so I'm taken by surprise when he rips open my pants and pushes them off my hips and down my legs and then traces a finger over my panties. I am able to fully enjoy his touch with no moment of worry that he will unthinkingly endanger himself by sliding a finger that might have a cut underneath my panties, he has been nothing but supremely responsible, sensitive and knowledgeable about the limitations of making love to an HIV woman; he has, in fact, turned those limitations into techniques to increase our pleasure. I buck and moan as his talented fingers use the seam of my panties to increase the friction as he rubs the material at the sensitive spot at my center. At the same time, his teeth press just enough to be arousing, without danger of breaking skin against my neck. The dual sensations jolt my senses.

"I want to be inside you." I gasp and arch back against him.

Patrick has discovered how much aural stimulation increases my arousal.

He bucks his hips under me, pressing his rock hard arousal into me. I press back, urging him on.

I want to whimper with relief when he loops an arm around my waist and gets up and deposits us on the couch. With a swiftness that tells of his vast experience, and for which I can be nothing but grateful, he has us both completely naked an underneath him in less than a minute. He is ripping open a condom wrapper as I stroke his blood reddened member. With one hand he unrolls it on his arousal and leans down and gives me a wet, open-mouthed kiss as he slides inside me. I am sore, but I need him with an ache that overrides the pain of his lubricated entry.

I clamp my legs on his thighs as he fills me. I arch my back bringing him deeper.

"Robin." He whispers my name against my lips and then tastes of me as he slowly pulls out and gently slides back in. His hands on my hips to keep my still. The pace he is setting is taking something out of him, I feel him tremble above me, but I know he's doing it to minimize my discomfort. It does so much more than that; this slow pace is driving me up and over fast. It's just enough that my insides are grabbing for more. My hands are squeezing his torso. I imagine his firm stomach muscles rippling as he flows into me and light explodes in front of my eyes.

I cry out. He cries out. We race to the pinnacle and slowly find out way back down together. His sweat drips onto my body. He collapses, careful to keep his weight on his arms, I push one hand out from under him, wanting to feel his weight on top of me. Needing for him to hold me to the earth as I come down from flight.

"I love you." I don't know who says it. It doesn't matter. It's what we both feel.

Around us we feel the plane begin its descent towards Port Charles.


	31. Patrick 16 ADULT WARNING

A/N: I was this close to killing off a mobster in this section, wrote half of it and then realized who the hell cares about them? Not me, not enough to write about 'em. Will have to save that for another fic. I think that all of us Scrubbies are getting impatient for some on-screen Scrubs-passion given the tone of stories lately.

>>>>>>>>>   
Meddling – Patrick 16  
>>>>>>>>>

"Robin Scorpio, welcome to the mile high club." I rumble into her neck as we lie entwined on the plane sofa.

"What makes you think I wasn't already a member?" Robin runs her hand down my back to clasp my bare ass. "I bet you already were."

Like I'm going to touch that last question with a ten foot pole, not when I want to be touching other things. To distract her I begin to nip on her ear.

Robin sighs and digs her nails lightly into my ass. "We're descending, we really need to get dressed." But I notice she doesn't move.

"You first." I press down on her slightly, eliciting a startled gasp.

"Do you really want me to dump your fine, naked ass on the floor?" she threatens.

"Like you could." Before the words are fully out of my mouth she's hooked a leg around mine, grabbed my shoulder and twisted her body, leveraging me right onto the floor. I stare up at her in shock. "Damn, Scorpio! You got moves." I gasp with laughter as she leans over the couch and looks down at me. "Want me to show you some of mine?" I unabashedly spread my legs and rub my burgeoning hard on. Spicy Scorpio is just to my taste.

"You're unbelievable!" she exclaims, but as she is just as unabashedly watching me stroke myself I'm not deterred.

"So we've established. Now how about you come down here and earn yourself a life membership in the club?" I lick my lips and grasp myself tighter, lengthening and slowing my strokes.

"You're going to be very embarrassed when we land and you're like that." She sits up and grabs her bra and begins putting it on, pretending to ignore me, but I see her watching me out of the corner of her eye.

"Robin," I moan and bring my hips into the action. "Touch me." She shakes her head, but then drops her legs in between mine and slowly, tauntingly, puts on her panties. "You know you want to." My words are punctuated with small gasps as her provocation and my own touch enflame me. I moan when she runs her toes up my leg and back down and begin whipping my hand up and down. In short order I'm coming again as if I hadn't just made love to her ten minutes before. Who needs Viagra when you're dating this woman? I lean back on my elbows and look at Robin. "Your loss."

She blushes and covers her face. I hear her mutter something about unbelievable and cocky. Before I can utter another crass word the plane banks and Robin gasps and looks around in panic. Still in her underwear she scrambles off the couch and gathers my clothes and urges me to put them on. Flustered and aroused she looks incredible I note as I lurch to the bathroom to clean up and get dressed. Even more incredibly, I start to get hard again as I imagine all the things I'm going to do her when we get back to her place. It makes buttoning my jeans a bit, er, difficult.

Once we're both clothed and in our seats I take her hand and lean down to press a kiss to her head. "Promise me we'll take a vacation like this at least every six months," I murmur into her ear. She sighs contentedly and squeezes my hand. Before Robin I didn't like to take time off of work, now I'm happy with both work and vacation, because she's here with me.

I look out the window as we descend in to Port Charles. Then I turn and look back at Robin who's giving me a sweet smile and I realize that nothing is ending, every moment is a beginning.


	32. Patrick 17

A/N: Time for a little change up. Patrick is going first since what's going on now revolves around him, or rather around what's inside him. Curse words.

>>>>>>>>  
MEDDLING – PATRICK 17  
>>>>>>>>

I'm acting like a twelve year old and I don't give a flying fuck.

I more than don't give a flying fuck, I am reveling in the petty rage that hums through my body as I slam around the doctor's locker room at General Hospital. I feel righteous even though I logically know I'm not right about anything. I am being a little boy whose toys are being manhandled by some snotty visiting cousin. In this case the toys are my surgical reputation and my girlfriend - my life. Mine!

Yup, I'm standing here kicking my locker because I feel like someone is threatening to take what's mine and I know, I am more than clear that it's not true and that I'm being irrational, but that doesn't change how I feel.

Who is the accused culprit? None other than Dr. Noah Drake, my own father.

Ridiculous and stupid and still, I don't care. To tell you the truth, this not acting like an adult feels fantastic! Completely energizing. If I wasn't so pissed I'd laugh. Ah hell, I let loose and laugh anyway. It's not like there are rules to this shit, and if there were I don't know them. I don't even know how I got to this.

I started out this morning resenting the heavy surgical schedule I was coming back to because of the time it would take me away from Robin, my amazing and sexy girlfriend. Unbelievable, but nothing I wasn't all right with. I wasn't really planning to quit my job and live out the rest of the days in bed with her, however tempting. I just adapted the best way I could by deliberately settting the alarm an hour early this morning so I could pretend for a little while. If you know what I mean.

Then, _voila_, after my first surgery everything shifted on its axis with just a simple statement. After sufficiently stroking my ego about the surgery my boss, Dr. Brandon Stuart, the Chief of Surgery came to the reason he had sought me out – he had just spoken with my father about coming on staff permanently and wanted to know if I had a problem with it. I have no illusions that he would reject the great Noah Drake's comeback at his hospital on my say so. Having my Dad and me on staff is going to be a feather in his cap and make a great story for fundraising. It might even land next year's American Neurological Association conference here in Port Charles.

I told him I thought it was great, just as I told my dad when he asked me about it.

And then Stuart said it, the words that set me back on my heels - "Good. Good. Having your father on staff will also lighten your load. I know you have a heavy schedule over the next few weeks. It reflects well on you."

Then with a clap on the back I was left standing in the corridor with my hands on my hips, wearing my dirty scrubs and a frown. He was right, about all of it. My heavy load reflects well on me because it's due to the fact that I'm getting referrals from doctors all over the Northeast, hell from the entire country, which means my reputation is growing and I am fast on my way to where I want to be in my career. So while I might be adjusting to being back from vacation and grumbling about not being with Robin 24X7, I'm damn proud of myself. And somewhere in my gut was, is, the feeling that "The Legendary Noah Drake" is going to steal some of my well-earned thunder.

And it made me mad as hell; it makes me mad as hell. From every angle.

I'm pissed that it looks like I'm nervous about the competition – because I'm not.

I'm pissed that Robin might think of less of me for feeling this way.

What I'm pissed most about is the past that I thought I had put behind me. I'm pissed that I have had to work my ass off in this field to get where I am with the added pressure of people constantly comparing me to him, many of them waiting for me to break and flame out like he did.

Most of all, I'm pissed that I got cheated out of my dream of building my career working side-by-side with my father and now he's going to waltz in and not only compete with me now, but it's now too damn late for him to teach me the things that made him a legend. I feel completely and utterly cheated.

Still, this was not the moment that pushed me over the edge. Since I had a couple of hours before my next surgery I decided to seek out my lovely girlfriend and entice her to have a late lunch with me, maybe even talk over how I was feeling with her or, you know, get naked with me. I went up to the tenth floor Nurse's Station to find her only to see her flirting with my father and then leaving going out on a lunch date with him!

I stood there for a long moment watching them leave before turning on my heel and walking away. I went to the stairwell and paced around trying to get my temper under control and talk myself out of doing something rash. Eventually I calmed down, outwardly, went out and asked Liz if she knew where they had gone. I changed quickly back into my jeans and t-shirt and headed for Kelly's.

I was back to seething before I got to the table. From the distance I could see how relaxed and comfortable Robin and my father were with each other. I could see that they were having a good time. Robin's back was to me, but I could see the look of admiration on my father's face. It infuriated me. He's always had that with her, while I had to fight tooth and nail to get her to look at me with anything but irritation, with a hint of lust.

Did I seriously think my father was making a play for Robin or even consider for a moment that Robin would take him up on it? Yeah, I have to admit I did, but only for a split second and not with my head. I made myself go over there, but I couldn't relax and Robin knew something was off with me. So did my dad, but rather than address it head on I walked away while he was in the middle of talking to me soon after Robin had left to go back to work. I haven't seen either of them since.

Here I am two surgeries later, it's hours after Robin has gone home, slamming around like a sullen adolescent. I've missed dinner with Robin because of the surgery, but that's for the best in this mood. I'm just going to go home today and blast the stereo, work out and see if I can't work this out of my system.


	33. Robin 17

A/N: It just occurred to me tonight how odd it is that I'm writing fanfic for GH. I've watched this show off and on my entire life. Just seems strange. Anywhooo…here's Robin's point of view on the first day back after vacation. More later this weekend.

>>>>>>>>   
Meddling – Robin 17  
>>>>>>>>

I'd like I was coming back to work like I had never left it, but, as I look at the stack of paperwork that litters the Nurse's Station in front of me, it's evident that I've just come back from a week off. In fact, it looks like I've come back from a month off. How could so much paperwork accumulate when I'm not here I just can't figure out? It's like some gothic curse, take time off and paperwork will propagate in your absence at exponentially increasing speeds. Some mad hospital administrator must have invented the curse in the mid-fifteenth century to dissuade staff from taking vacation. Or maybe it was a Cassadine?

Patrick is not faring any better. It's like everyone has decided to come down with a neurological condition in his absence as he practically has back-to-back surgeries scheduled for the next two weeks, in addition to numerous consults. He grumbled about it last night when he saw his schedule, but I know he's really proud because it means that he's in demand. I'm proud for him.

By that same token, I guess I shouldn't complain about my paperwork. I just got FDA approval to do human trials in the U.S. with the drug combination that I had only emergency exception to use on Jason, which is the cause of much of this paper. Another portion of the pile is related to my European clinicals data. It seems that Patrick and I are on career upswings, all of which which means that we're just going to have to make a concerted effort to spend time together in the midst of our busy schedules. I can't help but smile at the thought, it's so darn normal.

I have craved normal with my heart and soul since before I was born, or so it feels like. These are the kinds of questions I want to wonder about – can Patrick and I make it work without all the outside drama of liver transplants and epidemics? Will Patrick begin to miss his womanizing ways? Will we just plain bore each other to death or drive each other crazy? It's so much better than wondering about bombs, plots to end the world and kidnappings.

"Must have been a nice vacation," Liz leans in to comment as she passes behind me to use the computer sitting to the left of me.

I turn and tilt my head and show her a big smile.

"Okay, a very good vacation. Surprising how things turn out, you and Patrick "The Rake" Drake madly in love. I wish I could say I called it, but I missed that one."

I shake my head in wonder and give her a wry smile. "Remember when I thought he was nothing but a cold-hearted, pompous jerk? He didn't show a soul until that date he blackmailed me to go on." I feel filled with love thinking back to the moment when he got real with me, though I'm not unaware of the irony.

"I think it's what he believed about himself. I'd say you shook his world up dragging him back here to face his father and challenging him at every turn. He was like a dog with a bone going after you."

"Or a boner." I cover my mouth and muffle giggles. I can't believe I said that out loud. That man is contaminating my mind!

Liz wrinkles her nose and giggles with me.

"I have a very strong sense of _déjà vu_."

I turn my head and see Noah Drake leaning up against the counter in just that way Patrick does. He's wearing jeans, a button down shirt and looks startlingly like an older version of his son. "Had lots of girls giggling about you, Dr. Drake?" I smile at him. "You're looking healthier than I've ever seen you."

"That's what the doctors tell me, too. And as for the giggling I was actually talking about the girls around my son." He stops, tilts his head and smirks at me. "But that you could think of me does the old ego good." He even sounds like his son.

"If I wasn't in love with your son, Noah…" I trail off meaningfully and wink at him. Patrick what have you done to me! Now, I'm getting smarmy with your father!

Noah, however, is not one ounce of offended and just throws his head back and laughs. "I knew I liked you. Dump the youngster and let the old man show you the original." He waggles his eyebrows at me.

I pretend to think about it for a moment, causing him to laugh again. Not only am I happy to see Noah so carefree, but it's feels good for me to be this way too. These Drake men have brought me back to life and everything I've ever done for them wouldn't be enough to make that square. I know we're just one big mutual admiration society and I wouldn't have it any other way.

"I have a feeling my son might kick my ass if I take this any further, so how about we just run off for a nice lunch in the sunshine at Kelly's? My treat." Noah slips his hands in his pockets and rolls back on his heels as he delivers his invitation.

I close my pen and tell him that I would be delighted. We both say goodbye to Liz and companionably head out to lunch.

>>>>>>>>

Almost forty-five minutes later our table has been cleared, I sip an iced tea while Noah drinks bottled water – what he calls his sop to the habit of paying for his drinks – and we chat about the Drake beach house, the latest surgical tools that Noah can't wait to get a hold of when he comes on staff and his new living arrangements at Bobbie's brownstone. As he talks I see his attention diverted by something, or someone, behind me. Within seconds there's a shadow blocking our sun and I look up and see Patrick looming over us.

He's wearing jeans, a t-shirt and sunglasses, just like we're still on vacation; he's even backlit by the sun like when we were on the beach. I feel a completely inappropriate shaft of lust, but more than that I feel a weight I didn't know was pressing down on me lift away. This is the longest we've been apart in over a week and I've really missed him.

We speak at the same time. I say hello and he voices a sharp, "Isn't this cozy?" His lips are curved into a smile, but I know it's false.

"Have a seat, Sport," Noah invites. I can't tell if he's detected the same bitter tone I have and is ignoring it or if he hasn't noticed it at all. "Your girlfriend and I were just enjoying a leisurely lunch. Well, leisurely for me since I don't have to go back to work, yet."

"Stuart told me about your plans. Congratulations." Again, Patrick's words are audibly insincere.

"How was surgery?" I ask, wondering if something happened in the O.R.

"I was magnificent," Patrick says with a shrug.

I sit it out another few minutes, but it's clear that Patrick is not going to voice what has him so upset and I need to get back to work anyway. "See you tonight for dinner?" I put my hand on his shoulder, he doesn't flinch from my touch, but I can feel his muscles are all bunched up with tension.

"I have surgery," he says, and nothing else. No "I'll call you later," no "we'll stay at your place." I struggle to not take his mood personally.

"Okay. Well, see you later then." I kiss him on the cheek and he makes a half-hearted caress of my hand. "Thank you for lunch, Noah."

I walk back to the hospital wondering if this normal is all I thought it was cracked up to be.


	34. Robin 18

A/N: Thanks for the wonderful feedback! I adore Rick Springfield, I find him sexy and wonderful (and I get to see him next Friday!).

>>>>>>>>>>>  
Meddling - Robin 18  
>>>>>>>>>>>

I pace the admittedly small length of my bedroom and consider my options. Stay or go?

I haven't seen hide nor hair of Patrick since our brief and uncomfortable lunchtime encounter. Since then, he effectively avoided me for the rest of the day and I know it's avoidance and not just because he's busy. He hasn't left me any messages or returned mine and, most notably, he didn't make time to see me. That has never happened, not since the day we met. No matter his schedule, heck even if he was technically off work he has always made the time to come find me whether it was to needle or flirt and often both simultaneously. No, he's definitely avoiding me.

For a few hours after lunch I was assaulted with niggles of old insecurities. Little voices that would say that Patrick's tired of me now that we've had sex and the like, but I was finally able to put them to rest with some very clear evidence to the contrary. First of all, a man who is tired of you does not touch you or look at you the way Patrick did me at lunch. Second, I am well versed in Drake man conflict to recognize that today's mood was definitely something of the father-son-conflict variety. I just don't know what has happened to set it off.

The question I've been grappling with the past hour since I found out Patrick left the hospital – without calling me - is whether to give him space or butt in.

Well, I smile at my harried reflection in the mirror, that's not a hard decision after all.

Butting into the Drake father-son turmoil is what I do best. Hell of a lot better than I do with my own father, in fact. At that thought I put my hands on my hips and look at myself sternly in the mirror. "You are going to call your father tomorrow young lady and put a stop to this indulgent hypocrisy," I tell myself.

Feeling better I grab a pair of jeans.

>>>>>>>>

"What!" Patrick opens the door with a furious growl, until he sees it's me and then he smiles apologetically. "Sorry," he mumbles.

I want to growl myself because, oh my, Patrick is wearing a tank, top, short shorts and lots and lots of sweat. Oh my god, I could make a porn video right now. I shake off my lust and straighten up. "You're avoiding me," I roll right into the matter at hand.

Patrick looks at me and the satisfaction that appeared in his eyes at my obvious appreciation of his physical state disappears back into the well of fury that was there when he opened the door. He opens his mouth to speak and then shuts it. One hand is still on the door and he runs the other through his sweaty, messy hair and sighs. He moves back without a word and lets me in.

I walk in and hear loud music coming from upstairs and it's not a stretch to surmise he's been lifting the weights he keeps in the third bedroom. I spin around and find him still standing by the now closed door looking like he's trying really hard to calm down enough to talk to me. My heart melts at the sight. This is not just annoyance, something is seriously upsetting him. I decide to give him a moment and I walk into the kitchen and grab a couple of bottles of water, dropping my purse on the couch on the way.

I come back into the living room and find him gone. I stop and blink. I had not expected that. As I stand there I hear the music turn off and a few moments later the shower come on. Damn. Maybe he'll come down in a towel. I roll my eyes at myself and go sit down on the couch to wait. I can't believe that Patrick is in emotional pain and I'm indulging in prurient thoughts! Although, I'm not sure that so much makes me a bad girlfriend as opposed to the perfect one for Patrick Drake.

Ten minutes later Patrick walks slowly down the stairs, now clad in a pair of sweat shorts, and silently takes one of the bottles of water I've left on the coffee table. He sits down on the couch a cushion away from me, but facing me and my heart pangs when I see the pain and fury still in his eyes. If it's that strong after the hard work out he's obviously had then it must run deep. I have to find a way to ease him and to do that I need to find out what it is that's eating at him.

"It's not about you, Robin," he finally says after gulping down half the small bottle.

"I know. It's about Noah." I wait for his surprised reaction to pass before continuing. "Will you talk to me about it?" The brief moment of relief that my understanding has given him disappears and he is now agitated. I'm really beginning to worry. "Patrick…" I break off. I don't want to pressure him and I need to choose my words carefully. "There's nothing you can tell me that will make me think less of you."

"You haven't heard this." He shakes his head and then finishes the bottle of water. He closes it and puts it down on the coffee table and picks up the other bottle. He doesn't drink from it, he just tosses it between his hands. His brow is furrowed in thought.

"You don't have to tell me, but I'm worried about you and I want to help."

"You always do." He chuckles and flashes me a dimple. For a few seconds he's the cocky Patrick I know, but it quickly fades and he leans back on the couch with a sigh. "I'm jealous of my father." His voice is filled with self-disgust.

What he says is obvious, but simple jealousy is not what caused the amount of fury and pain that is still radiating from him. "What are you jealous about?" I probe.

He leans his head back and speaks while looking up at the ceiling. I know he's doing it to avoid looking me in the eyes while he tells me. I toe off my Keds and lean back to listen.

"I feel like he's taking everything from me. My career. You." At the last word he looks me dead in the eye. The seriousness there gives me chills. "Before you say it, I know it's juvenile, but I can't make these feelings go away." He slams the bottle back on the coffee table and proceeds to crack his knuckles.

"Why do you think he's taking things away from you? Because he's coming to work at General Hospital? Because I went to lunch with him?"

"Yes."

I'm listening not just with my ears; I'm also listening to the other signals Patrick is throwing out. What I'm feeling from him is not jealousy, it's grief and resentment. How could I but recognize that, especially in relation to a father? "I imagine it's hard after ten years of being abandoned to have him just walk in and pick up where he left off as if nothing has happened."

"But it's not like that! He just had a liver transplant! We've lived together! We've worked things out. I…it doesn't even make sense to me that I feel like this." Frustration makes his voice gruff.

"For ten years he denied you a father by his own choice, years when you needed him and now he's going back to work at General Hospital as your competition." I avoid any mention of myself; I know it's not about me. "I know I'd be pissed if my father suddenly walked into my lab and started barking orders about, say, a mutant virus after I've worked my ass off as a researcher during the years he was absent. In fact, I was."

Patrick twists his lips into a grimace, but he doesn't say anything.

"I bet you were looking forward to working with him when you were a kid. I can imagine you and your mother weaving pictures of that together," I say softly and I know I've hit on the heart of the matter when I see tears fill Patrick's eyes. Matching ones fill my eyes and my heart breaks for him. At the same time, I am so honored that he's sharing this with me.

"We did." His voice cracks and he looks down into his lap and takes a deep breath. "He was supposed to show me how to do this. I wasn't supposed to do it alone."

I know he's not just talking about being a surgeon. There is ten years of grief in his words and in his body language, it physically weighs him down. Grief that I wish I could tell him will go away, but I know it never fully will. Grief is not a five-step process that is done once you go through each stage. It's never so neat, predictable and it never really ends. It may fade in intensity, but the smallest thing or nothing could bring it back up again and again. This grief that Patrick is battling, and I can see that it's a pitched battle inside him, has never really been dealt with at all. He's never gotten to deal with the loss of his father as his hero and the dreams that died when his father gave up on medicine and himself, and in large part Patrick. Having his father back as a surgeon has to be what dredged it to the surface.

I scoot closer to him on the couch and put my hand on his face and gently stroke his skin.

"You're not jealous, Patrick." My sure words make him lift his head and look at me, his eyes pleading for my words to be true. Ah, my honorable man, do you know how much I adore you? "You are grieving for the dream that died all those years ago of the father-son surgical team. This is grief, not jealousy and you have every right to feel this way."

He lets out a small breath at my words and then wraps his arms around me and gathers me to him and buries his face in my neck. He doesn't cry, but I stroke his damp hair until his ragged breathing evens out.

"Thank you," he whispers into my ear.

"I know it's not exactly how you pictured it, but there might still be things Noah can teach you."

"You mean like his wonderful bedside manner?" Patrick snorts into my ear.

"I was thinking more along the lines of technique. I remember him giving you some good advice in the O.R. recently. I bet you can show him a thing or two, too." I have no doubt once Patrick works through what he's going through that Noah and Patrick Drake are going to rock the neurological community.

"I'm sure I can." Patrick pulls back and I can see that he's still unhappy, but calmer now that he understands the why of how he feels. Now, that he's not ashamed of it. "Stay with me tonight?" he asks.

"Of course." I stroke my hand down his bare chest and press a soft kiss to his shoulder.  



	35. Patrick 18

A/N: Sorry it's been so long. Had to get JT out of my head in order to be able to channel Patrick. Frankly, I'm not quite there yet. Need to watch today's scenes a few more times…oh wait, that might not help.

PS - Rick is hotter now than he ever was. Gonna go stare at photos from Friday night now...

>>>>>>>>>>>   
Meddling – Patrick 18  
>>>>>>>>>>>

It still hurts so much.

I drop the weights with a loud clang, wincing both at the sound and the feel of my muscles gone rubbery. I bury my face in a sweat dampened towel as I slump down on the weight bench. Ninety minutes and buckets of sweat later, I'm no closer to any sort of calm. I've worked my pectoral muscles, along with every other one, triple reps and the outer burn is doing nothing to mask the ache underneath. Nor has my fury decreased, in fact, it's only increased. I don't know what to do with it.

Everything inside me wants to go out and bury it all in some mindless flirting, dirty dancing and a convenient one night stand. It's what I do, what I've always done.

Ran into the old man and argued about my mother's estate, go out and score a hot blonde.

Someone mentioned Dad's name while reviewing my residency application, go out and score a red head. Or two.

Father leaves rehab early and announces he wants to pretend the last ten years never happened and I should wait around for him to let me down again, run off to Rusty's and Mercy Hospital's more than willing female personnel.

Robin once accused me of being afraid of emotional intimacy and while I wouldn't admit it at the time, the pattern is pretty freakin' obvious, flirting and sex have been my tried and true method of avoiding feelings.

But that's not an option and I'm not so gone that I want to throw everything I have with Robin away for some temporary pain management. What I should do is call Robin, but I can't face the disappointment I'll see in her eyes. That's why I've been avoiding her all day, which only makes me feel worse because she might just be wondering if "love 'em and leave 'em Drake" has gotten what he wanted and is hiding out from her. I know my timing sucks. Or can I blame this on my father who has an incredible ability to disrupt my life?

With a frustrated sigh I toss the towel onto the bench and begin to stretch out. I'm going to be aching later, but it's the least I deserve. Maybe if I wince enough it'll convince Robin to go easy on me. Once I can face her.

Ring

Damn. It's either Jehovah's Witnesses or my father to give me more good news, or worse to talk through my mood at lunch. He's been trying to call me all afternoon. But I'm in no mood to deal with either as I stalk down the stairs to the front door.

"What!" I growl as I throw it open.

The sight of Robin takes me by surprise. I fully expected her to sit at home cursing me for avoiding her, not come over here to confront me.

"Sorry." I lean against the door and wait for the lecture. But instead of rushing into a long, involved explanation as to why I'm wrong for behaving badly with my father and then avoiding her I catch her checking me out. Well, well, well. Maybe this won't be so…

"You're avoiding me."

Or maybe it will be as bad as I expected. I open my mouth to speak, but I know I'm just going to say something stupid. In frustration I run my hand through my hair and remember that I'm a sweaty mess. I move back and open the door to let her in. I watch, bemused, when instead of turning on me and demanding answers Robin drops her purse on the couch and goes into the kitchen.

Still, I know it's a short reprieve. I might as well be clean for this.

The shower helps somewhat, at least I feel a lot calmer, although I won't pretend to look forward to a conversation about feelings. What are the odds I'll get lucky after she hears how uncharitable and immature I am? Not very high, I sigh to myself. When I get downstairs she's patiently sitting on the couch with two bottles of water on the ready. I use one to not only quench my thirst, but to stall.

"It's not about you, Robin," I say after taking a long drink.

"I know. It's about Noah."

I blow a breath in surprise. It's not the insight that surprises me, Robin has always had the ability to see right through me, what surprises me is that she jumped right there and passed on making me feel bad for avoiding her, but then, that's never really been Robin's style. I was just hoping for a buffer conversation.

"Will you talk to me about it? Patrick…" she stops and frowns. I can tell she's trying to choose her words carefully, which only makes my chest hurt. She's taking such care with me and I'm such a bastard. "There's nothing you can tell me that will make me think less of you."

"You haven't heard this." I finish the bottle of water, close it and put it down on the table. I am deliberate in my movements both to stall, but also because I'm trying to suppress the rage that it threatening to overwhelm me again as I think about my father. I pick the full water bottle and toss it from hand to hand as I try to figure out what to say.

"You don't have to tell me, but I'm worried about you and I want to help."

"You always do." Even in the midst of this excruciating conversation she manages to comfort me, but the reprieve is brief. I lean back and brace myself. I'm just going to get it out there. "I'm jealous of my father."

"What are you jealous about?"

I have to look away from her. I can't say this looking at the most honorable person I know. I drop my head back and look at the ceiling.

"I feel like he's taking everything from me. My career. You." At the last word I look her dead in the eyes, I have to, she deserves that much.

"Before you say it, I know it's juvenile, but I can't make these feelings go away." I slam the bottle back on the coffee table.

"Why do you think he's taking things away from you? Because he's coming to work at General Hospital? Because I went to lunch with him?"

"Yes." I nod, still braced for a lecture.

"I imagine it's hard after ten years of being abandoned to have him just walk in and pick up where he left off as if nothing has happened."

He soft words unnerve me. "But it's not like that! He just had a liver transplant! We've lived together! We've worked things out. I…it doesn't even make sense to me that I feel like this." It's not that, it can't be that. Could it?

"For ten years he denied you a father by his own choice, years when you needed him and now he's going back to work at General Hospital as your competition. I know I'd be pissed if my father suddenly walked into my lab and started barking orders about, say, a mutant virus after I've worked my ass off as a researcher during the years he was absent. In fact, I was."

Is she trying to make me feel better by comparing us? I don't know what to say.

"I bet you were looking forward to working with him when you were a kid. I can imagine you and your mother weaving pictures of that together."

Her voice is soft, tender. The understanding and compassion in her eyes are my undoing. No one has looked at me like that since my mother.

"We did." I clear my throat and look down. Tears are filling my eyes – tears! I didn't know this was here. "He was supposed to show me how to do this. I wasn't supposed to do it alone."

She's right. God, this was not how it was supposed to be. My mother wasn't supposed to die and he wasn't' supposed to die with her. He was supposed be my mentor. We were supposed to do this together. And now, it feels like a consolation prize. Too little, too late and it infuriates me that he's just waltzing in now to threaten my turf.

I suck in a breath as I feel Robin touch my face. I hadn't realized she had moved closer. "You're not jealous, Patrick." I look at her, hoping she's right. "You are grieving for the dream that died all those years ago of the father-son surgical team. This is grief, not jealousy and you have every right to feel this way."

Something someone once said to me whispers through my mind – anger is just fear and sadness mixed together. Anger is so much easier to deal with, at least for me. I don't know how to deal with all this stuff and I see in her eyes that she's telling me I don't have to do this alone. Not anymore, not this time. I'm swamped with grief and love. I've been alone so long and I'm just getting how lonely I've been. I wrap my arms around her and gather her to me to him and bury my face in my neck and breathe in her comforting scent. So many women, so many friends, but no one that has gotten me like she does. I hold on tight for I don't know how long and she just holds me back and strokes my hair.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"I know it's not exactly how you pictured it, but there might still be things Noah can teach you."

"You mean like his wonderful bedside manner?" I snort. How many times have both of them lectured me on that? Please, I'm a surgeon, for pete's sake, my patients are pretty much unconscious at the critical moments. And she works mainly with a microscope. I don't get this stress on being nice, isn't being good more important?

"I was thinking more along the lines of technique. I remember him giving you some good advice in the O.R. recently. I bet you can show him a thing or two, too."

"I'm sure I can." Thinking about medicine balances me. I loosen my grasp and pull back to look at her. "Stay with me tonight?"

"Of course." She strokes her hand down my bare chest and presses a soft kiss to my shoulder. I shiver.

"Do you have your meds?" I stroke her silky hair off her face and stroke her cheek with my thumb.

"Yeah. But I'll have to get up early to go home and change before shift."

"No problem." This feels normal, I need normal. "Have you had dinner yet?"

"No."

"Hungry?"

She looks down at my chest and then back in my eyes. "Yes."

I grin back at her.


	36. Robin 19

>>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Robin 19  
>>>>>>>>

He finally slept.

I sigh and continue to stroke him. My cheek is pressed against the warm skin of his back as he curls into me and I breathe deeply of his masculine scent. His fall into sleep was not easy, yet he let me soothe him. Hold him. Love him. I fervently hope that he continues to allow that as time goes on.

After our initial conversation, the rest of the evening was spent studiously avoiding any talk of Noah. I could see the shadow of the grief in Patrick's eyes and if I thought it would have served him I would have pressed him to talk about it, but this wasn't something that conversation would resolve. It would take time and there would be a lot of ups and downs.

It's contemplating what those ups and downs will look like that keeps me awake.

Patrick and I have never had easy. First it was Jason, Manny and Carly. Then it was Patrick's father's battle to sobriety. Then it was the return of my father, a manmade viral epidemic, the Drake men detente and my near death, and finally Noah's liver surgery.

All of that brought us to where we are right now.

What's up ahead could just be another dip in the roller coaster ride, it could bring us closer together or it could tear us apart.

Could Patrick in a moment of weakness turn back to tried and true patterns of easing his pain - women? Yes. Just as I could shut down and do a runner. We are both only human. We are imperfect, fallible and sometimes stupid. I do not go down this path with him blindly.

But I go down this path with his heart in my hands and mine in his. It is my faith in that, in him and in us that gives me peace in the face of all that might happen.

Patrick and I not only found each other, we found ourselves in each other and I'm not going to walk away from that. So whatever happens, I am on this ride with him and call myself lucky.

I press a kiss to his back and close my eyes.


	37. Patrick 19

>>>>>>>>>>>>>  
Meddling - Patrick 19  
>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I watch her sleep and I'm reminded of the snarky comments I made the first time we met. I threw them at her partly in annoyance at the interruption and partly to take her measure. I have to admit, at least to myself, that a woman who could storm into my OR and not even blink while I'm plying my magic on a pretty nurse intrigued the hell out of me. She was beautiful, fiery and as small as a child; something I assumed was a bit of a sore point for her and I used it to get a rise out of her. She was so adorable when she growled back at me.

She looks like a child now - small, innocent and in need of protection. She'd kick my ass if I told her that, though. Or throw a knife at me, she showed me her knife throwing skills when we were in Cape Cod. Being the daughter of super-spies she has skills that I definitely would not have believed. She also claims to be an expert markswoman. I told her I'd take her word on that. Neither of us needs guns to make their way into our relationship. She's had enough of that and I don't want it.

Another thing about Robin when she's sleeping is that she's incredibly beautiful. When she's awake I rarely get the opportunity to just look at her. She's either too busy doing something or she gets flustered. So different from me, I chuckle softly and lay my head gently down on her pillow. If you ask, heck even if you don't, I'll gladly stand still and let you lay eyes on me. There's no blush or squirm of modesty from me. I'm beautiful and I know it. But not Robin, she has no idea of her own beauty.

But then, she's not just beautiful on the outside and maybe that's what makes the difference? She's truly beautiful on the inside too. I wonder if that's the quality about her that induced my father to follow her to Port Charles. I wonder if he saw some echo of my mother in Robin. I know I do. I reach out and gently push back some stray hairs are blocking my view.

I can't believe she came to me last night. I was going to wallow in my anger and hide out from her until I felt more worthy, more in control. I was, in effect, pushing her away. But my girl would have none of that. She's at my door ready to face me down and one look at her I knew I would let her. That I needed her. I'm astounded by how much I need her.

"You're watching me."

I grin at her sleepy voice. "Maybe."

"Definitely." She opens her beautiful brown eyes and blushes when she finds her staring.

"That's because you're so beautiful."

"You're just saying that because you're arrogant and you couldn't have a plain girlfriend."

"Robin…" I laugh heartily and press my forehead against hers. "You are insanely attracted to my arrogance."

"Could be." She slips her arms around my neck and burrows against me. I rub my hand down her back and indulge both of us in a heated morning kiss.

"Thanks for coming over last night."

She just smiles and toys with the hair at the nape of my neck.

"So we both have off this weekend and I was thinking."

"Uh oh."

I pretend to glare at her for the mocking interruption. "I want to take you to the races at Watkins Glen. There's a pretty big race."

"Do you miss it?" she asks. I told her one day while we were lazing on the beach about my aspirations of being a race car driver and how I gave it up when I decided I was going to be a surgeon instead. She told me that she thought that was extremely hot.

"Sometimes," I say now as I say then. "But I don't regret my choice. I was born to be a surgeon." As Robin said, better class of bootie as a surgeon than as a race car driver. My girlfriend knows me well.

"You were," she agrees. "Will you go to the ballet with me?" She told me that she had once wanted to be a ballerina. I could easily picture that.

"I told you once I was cultured." I know I don't sound particularly thrilled.

"Ah, you don't have to. Maxie will got with me."

"Oh good!" I nibble on her ear.

"We have to get to work." She sighs into my ministrations.

We do, have to get up for work soon. And she has to go take her morning meds. But a few more moments of bliss before we start the day won't hurt anything. I roll over and look down at her, challenging. She wraps her legs around my waist in answer.


	38. Robin 20

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>  
Meddling – Robin 20  
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I love seeing Patrick like this. His joy and excitement are infectious.

I've only ever seen him like this before in the O.R. Okay, and when we're making love. But that's what he's been like most of the day here at Glen Watkin's race track. There's no big races going on, but he's having a blast and I'm not even bothering to say no to anything he proposes.

"You know, there's this spot I know…" He gives me a heated sidelong glance and bites his lip in the charming way he has that makes me melt.

Until now.

We're sitting in our seats waiting for the next race to begin. Our hands are entwined and resting on my leg.

"I'm going to puke."

"Why, Dr. Scorpio, I thought you wanted me." He leans in closer so I can smell his arousing scent – Patrick Drake, cologne, steamy track food and motor oil.

My stomach churns. "I've had a corn dog, a hot pretzel, the biggest cone of cotton candy, two sodas and Twizzlers." My stomach churns even more as I tick off the junk I've consumed since we arrived at the track before opening so that Patrick could go down to the pits and greet people he used to know and check out the cars. My face heats up and I press it against Patrick's arm. "Really. Gonna. Puke." I gasp in deep breaths.

"Awww, poor baby." Patrick releases my hand and puts his arm around me. "Maybe you'd feel better if you just did? It's all part of the experience, you know."

"Throwing up is part of the racing experience and this is what you loved so much?"

"Nah, this is part of the viewing experience. I was a driver."

"I'm never eating another cotton candy." We both know I'm lying since it's my absolute favorite sweet of all times, which is why Patrick used his oozing charm to get the teenager manning the machine to make it super duper size. And then he didn't help me eat it. "God," I gasp. But for right now, I'm never eating a bit of junk food. Ever. In. My. Life.

"Spoilsport."

"Did you just call me a spoilsport?" I sit up and look up at him slack-jawed. "You still have a totally crappy bedside manner." I cross my arms and pout. I'm only half-kidding. I am considering just puking in his lap.

"Do you want to leave?" He sighs sadly.

"No. I just don't want to be so nauseous." Although, since he insulted me I am feeling slightly better; which, I think as I look at his smirk, was part of his strategy. There were a few moments in when I was sick in the hospital where he deliberately baited me to bring out my strength.

"I bet if you let me do you you'd feel a lot better."

I cover my face and groan. He is completely impossible and damned if I don't love that about him. I feel his hand settle on my head.

"If you're really feeling that sick, we can go. We have been all day."

I sigh. He always does that. Says something crass and insensitive followed up by something completely sweet. It's a wonder that I don't suffer from vertigo. I lean my head against his chest and wrap my arms around his torso. "Crazy man, just hold me and watch the races. Just don't rub my back if you don't want a lap full of surprises."

"Got it, no rubbing." Patrick gently puts his arm around my shoulders and clasps my arm.

>>>>>>>>>

An hour later we hold hands and head for our car. I look at him in the glare of the setting sun and am so happy to see the peace on his face. When we had arrived this morning and went into the pits I could see the shadows in his eyes. I knew he was thinking about all he had lost when his mother had died; in one fell swoop he had lost his mother, his father, his hero and his dreams of racing. When I tried to talk to him about it he asked if he could just have some time alone. Sad, but understanding, I agreed. Not thirty minutes later he found me sitting in the drivers seat of the newest car racing that day being shown the controls by the eager pit crew and the driver; who ends up idolized Patrick in his youth.

From that moment on the day was nothing but a joy.

"Thanks for coming with me," Patrick says when we get to his car. We stand holding hands smiling shyly at each other. The sun makes everything look like it's on fire around us.

"Thank you for bringing me. It was fun."

"Vomiting notwithstanding?" he asks with raised eyebrows.

"Sorry about that." I grimace. Despite both our best efforts I was unable to feel better any other way.

"We're just going to have to ease you into the junk food slowly, but surely." He chuckles and pulls me closer. We wrap our arms around each other and just stand holding each other as the sun slides down into the horizon. Around us, other people are sitting in lines waiting to get out of the parking lot. We're not in a hurry.

"I love you, Patrick."

"I love you, too."


	39. Patrick 20

>>>>>>>>>   
Meddling – Patrick 20  
>>>>>>>>>

There are so many memories here. I didn't expect it to hit so hard. I've raced here so many times, been a spectator almost as many. Being relatively close to New York my mother sometimes came here with us to see my race. Those were the family vacations we took – traveling around the country to car races. The Senator didn't necessarily approve, thought it was beneath the Drake family dignity, but sometimes he and my grandmother came too. It all stopped when my mother became ill. I still raced, my mother encouraged me to, but my father more often than not stayed home to take care of her. That's when racing began to lose some of its sparkle for me and the idea of being a surgeon started to take on more significance. When my mother died and my father's career flamed out I felt that I had to redeem it all for my parents. For my mother. For myself.

Truth is I haven't stepped foot in a track since my last race, which was a month after my mother died. I won the race and walked away. I still play with my kiddy racetrack from time to time, I still dream about speeding at 190+ in death defying maneuvers, but I haven't been on a real track or in a race car. The smell of oil, gasoline and burning rubber brought it all back the moment we arrived. I guess I didn't realize how much I missed it until I was here. The longing and regret was overwhelming. I had to let go of Robin's hand and be by myself for a while. My girlfriend, bless her heart, let me go with a kiss on the cheek. I found her not half an hour later sitting in the driver's seat of Kid Karuso's brand new machine being taught the intricacies of steering by the pit crew. That's my girl – charming, hot and a bit of a secret daredevil.

The rest of the day was a pure blast. Robin and I cheered on races, made some side bets and ate. A lot.

I sit here now. It's in between races and Robin is slumped down in the seat next to me looking decidedly green. She's feeling a bit ill from all the junk she's consumed throughout the day. I'm not surprised. I think she ate her weight in sugar and processed crap. I bear a bit of that responsibility. I sometimes forget she's so much smaller than I am and expect her to eat as much as I do. Usually she rejects it. Actually, come to think of it, we usually end up not eating at all. Well, today she didn't turn down a thing. I think she's gonna have to throw up or otherwise end up with some kind of toxicity poisoning, but for right now she's resisting.

"You know, there's this spot I know…" I tease.

"I'm going to puke."

"Why, Dr. Scorpio, I thought you wanted me." I lean in closer and whisper in her ear. If she would just puke she'd feel a lot better.

"Really. Gonna. Puke." She's gasping.

"Awww, poor baby." I let go of her hand and put my arm around her. She feels really chilled and I'm kind of feeling bad. "Maybe you'd feel better if you just did? It's all part of the experience, you know."

"Throwing up is part of the racing experience and this is what you loved so much?" She shivers.

"Nah, this is part of the viewing experience. I was a driver."

"I'm never eating another cotton candy."

She's definitely lying. She loves cotton candy, but I'm man enough not to call her on it.

"God." She gasps.

Okay, this is ridiculous. I can't sit here and watch her needlessly suffer. "Spoilsport." Pissing her off should work. She'll either get so mad she feel better or…well, I'd better be ready to boogie.

"Did you just call me a spoilsport?" She sits up and gapes at me. "You still have a totally crappy bedside manner." She crosses her arms and pout. She also eyes my lap evilly.

"Do you want to leave?"

"No. I just don't want to be so nauseous."

"I bet if you let me do you you'd feel a lot better." Okay, that just came out. I can't help it. Whenever she looks prim I like giving her sex talk. It's this thing we do. She covers her face. I put my hand on her head. "If you're really feeling that sick, we can go. We have been all day."

She leans her head against my chest and wraps her arms around my torso. I'm really worried about my lap now. "Crazy man, just hold me and watch the races. Just don't rub my back if you don't want a lap full of surprises."

"Got it, no rubbing." I put my arm around her.

>>>>>>>>

It's dark on the road and I'm alone with my thought. Robin is asleep in the passenger seat, poor girl was sick before we left the track and passed out before we left the parking lot. I didn't know if I was ever going to set foot on a track again. All these years I didn't think it was necessary – I walked away a winner for bigger and better things. Now, I know it was a lot more complex than that. I'm so glad that I had the urge to go again and that Robin was with me while I did. There's a lot going on right now with my Dad's recovery and us working together like we'd always planned. It's churned up a lot of stuff with me, although I think Robin is making it a bigger deal than it is. But after today I'm thinking of maybe inviting Dad to come back with me sometime. I think it would be good for us.

Maybe Robin will come along. I'll just hide the food from her.

I reach over and stroke her hand. She shifts in her sleep and sighs.

I'm a happy man.


	40. Robin 21

**Meddling – Robin 21**

I can feel the stroke of his fingers through my entire body.

We're lying in bed. Naked. I'm stretched across his body, reading the news section of the paper. He's propped against the pillows and holds the sports section above me and strokes my bare back with the tips of his fingers. My body is still heated and sensitive from making love with him all morning. His touch is arousing me again. I shift and let out a small sigh. Then I smile when I feel him harden beneath me. His fingers dip lower and stroke my thigh.

"Patrick." I know it's undignified to beg. I don't care. I close my eyes and roll over and put my arms above my head.

"What? You didn't get enough of me?"

I smile as he traces a finger around my tender nipple. Sparks course through my body.

"I think we're going to have to quit our jobs after all and spend all our time in bed," I tell him and stretch towards him. It's a plan we talk about on and off, especially on the rare days we have off together.

"We'd have to conserve our resources though." Patrick has clearly given this a lot of thought. "Buy our food and paper products in bulk and keep only one car, mine since it's way hotter." He leans down and slides his tongue over my breast. I let out a whimpering sigh. "We'll get the family plan for the cell phones. Maybe give up the house phones entirely. The real rub will be the cable bills. I need my sports ticket."

"The cable bills?" I murmur and shift in need. Why is he talking about cable bills?

"Two cable bills, costs a fortune. There's really only one solution for that." He nuzzles my neck with his lips at the same time he's tracing circles on my stomach.

"What's that?" I sigh out. If his voice wasn't so damned sexy I'd tell him to stop talking and get busy.

"We'll have to move in together."

"Great idea, that'll…" I stop talking and open my eyes. He's looking down at me expectantly. My heart starts pounding. Did he? Could he? Just… "Patrick?"

"It's really the best solution." He licks his lips and pushes me off his lap and lies down next to me and props himself on his hand. "Move in with me."

Shock turns into shocked glee. "Are you asking me or telling me, Drake?" I bite my lip to hold back my laughter.

"You are such a pain in the ass, Scorpio. I don't know why I want to make sure that I go to sleep with you every night and wake up every day with you." He shakes his head and sighs, acting much put upon. "Why I want to give up my precious closet space and allow feminine stuff into my very macho pad. I must be crazy."

"Yeah, crazy in love."

"Ah, that must be why I'm extending an invitation to invade my precious space." He smiles and clamps his tongue between his lips.

He's being stubborn. He's not going to ask. I'm crazy too because I love that about him. "I guess I can do that. To save on the cable bills and all." I put my hand on his lean hip. "I must be crazy too since I want to wake up with this body every morning and argue about what we're having for dinner every night." I push him onto his back and climb on top of his lean body. "But a water bed? Could you get more cheesy bachelor? We're going to use my bed."

"A girlie antique bed in here?" He rolls his eyes. "It's not even king-sized. We'll buy a new bed."

"There's plenty of things to discuss. How about we do that later?" I lean down and whisper my words into his lips.

"You know, it's suggestions like that make me wild for you." He grasps my hips and flips us over. The paper crinkles beneath our combined weight.

I slide my arms around his neck. "I love you, Patrick." I press my lips to his and we lose ourselves in a long, tender kiss.

"This long haul stuff, it's pretty cool," he whispers into my ear a while later.


	41. Patrick 21

**Meddling – Patrick 21**

I can't believe I'm going to do this. I can't believe that I want to. I've been thinking about it a lot for the past few weeks. I've even talked to my father about it. I'm going to ask Robin to move in with me. I've just been waiting for the right moment. I want it to be a complete surprise.

I hate it the rare nights we spend alone. I hate that just when I get used to seeing something of hers in my bathroom or my closet it's suddenly gone. I want her stuff mingled with mine. I want to be able to see her stuff when she's not here and know she's coming back. I want to smell her body lotion in my bathroom every morning and night.

I want mornings like this all the time.

We're lying naked in bed and she's stretched across my body on her stomach. Her feet are on one side of me and she's reading the news section of the paper on the other. I'm sitting against the pillows reading the sports section. We've made love countless times this morning, well, actually, I did count, it was three, but I am beginning to get hard again. She shifts and sighs on top of me. I know what's she's doing. I smirk and slide the fingers that were stroking her back down to her thigh.

"Patrick."

Her voice is a plea that I feel in my groin. She rolls over still on top of me and stretches her body out for my pleasure. "What? You didn't get enough of me?" I trace a finger around her swollen nipple.

"I think we're going to have to quit our jobs after all and spend all our time in bed," She tells me and arches her back.

I've been telling her this for ages. My heart stops and starts as I realize that this is the lead in that I've been waiting for. "We'd have to conserve our resources though. Buy our food and paper products in bulk and keep only one car, mine since it's way hotter." I bend down and slide my tongue over her breast eliciting a whimper. I love how undignified she gets when I touch her. "We'll get the family plan for the cell phones. Maybe give up the house phones entirely. The real rub will be the cable bills. I need my sports ticket."

"The cable bills?" Her voice is breathy, her words absent. I know she's not really paying attention to my words. I grin. Her eyes are closed so she can't see that my face is giving everything away.

"Two cable bills, costs a fortune. There's really only one solution for that." I nuzzle her neck and trace circles on her taut stomach. Her body trembles. It doesn't know which sensation to react to first.

"What's that?"

"We'll have to move in together." I bite back a laugh as I wait for my suggested to register.

"Great idea, that'll…"

She stops talking and her eyes pop open. The brown is hazy at first, then begins to focus in on my smiling face. I feel her heart racing. "Patrick?" Her breathe is quick and jerky.

"It's really the best solution." I push her off my lap and lie down next to her. She's in too much shock to move. I'm loving this. "Move in with me."

I see her shock turn into amusement. "Are you asking me or telling me, Drake?" She's happy. My heart soars.

"You are such a pain in the ass, Scorpio. I don't know why I want to make sure that I go to sleep with you every night and wake up every day with you." I shake my head in mock frustration. "Why I want to give up my precious closet space and allow feminine stuff into my very macho pad. I must be crazy."

"Yeah, crazy in love."

Well, I can't argue with that. "Ah, that must be why I'm extending an invitation to invade my precious space." I look down at her expectantly.

She narrows her eyes at me. "I guess I can do that. To save on the cable bills and all." She puts her hand on my hip. "I must be crazy too since I want to wake up with this body every morning and argue about what we're having for dinner every night." In a flash her hand leaves my hip to push on my chest. I fall onto my back and she crawls on top of me. Now, this is a good day. "But a water bed? Could you get more cheesy bachelor? We're going to use my bed."

"A girlie antique bed in here? It's not even king-sized. We'll buy a new bed." It suddenly occurs to me that she might want to redecorate. Should I panic?

"There's plenty of things to discuss. How about we do that later?" She leans down and whispers, chasing all thoughts of redecorating off for the moment.

"You know, it's suggestions like that make me wild for you." I grasp her hips and flips us over so that I'm on top. The paper crinkles beneath our combined weight. Ah, the lovely sounds of a lazy Sunday.

"I love you, Patrick." I feel her words as well as hear them as I lean in for a kiss. We make love tenderly. The paper ends up on the floor as our limbs tangle.

She's still pulsing around me when I lean down and tell her, "This long haul stuff, it's pretty cool."


	42. Robin 22

**Meddling – Robin 22**

My father needs to get his own life.

Ever since he's come back from the dead he's been trying to make up for lost time by giving me advice. Very inappropriate advice that would have scarred me for life if he had given it to me while growing and seriously threatens my sanity as it is.

The fact that he's out of town on assignment makes no difference, apparently. Yesterday he called to make sure that Patrick and I were still playing "pattycakes," an allusion that actually made me laugh but I covered the phone because I didn't want to encourage him. Today, he called to tell me that he was coming home to help me move into "Pat's" apartment. For once I had a great comeback – my mother is coming to Port Charles and already volunteered to help. The silence on the other end of the phone amused me.

Apparently their reunion didn't go well. No one died and the injuries weren't life-threatening, but I know that my father isn't eager to repeat the experience. Maybe both my parents will be too distracted with each other to meddle too much in my life? Or, I sigh and looked around at the mess we've made, is that too optimistic?

Patrick and I are at my apartment packing my things up to move into his place at the end of the week. Truthfully, I could do it all much faster without him, but he insisted on helping. Generosity is not his sole motive, I've sussed out after hours of painfully _not_ casual of questions about whether I "really need" to bring the pastel pillows on my couch or the watercolors I got in _Provence_. It's obvious that cave man stirrings are coming to the surface as he's beginning to realize that it's not just me and my lingerie moving into his place.

"Really. This?" he asks with a pained expression on his face and one pink and one blue elaborately carved candle in each hand.

I bite the inside of my cheek and blink innocently. "Of course, Patrick. Those are very special to me." Special only in the "a gag gift I couldn't bring myself to throw out and the movers tossed it in with everything from Paris" kind of way. I mean, those candles are apparently the specialty craft in some mountain town in Switzerland, except I the teddy bears stamped on them were a special addition by a sadistic friend just for me. They're hideous and I definitely plan to donate them to someone with kids. Torturing Patrick is just a side bonus.

Patrick pastes on a smile and turns to put them into the box he's filling. I think he's looks a bit green, in fact, the same tone as the stuffed frog just underneath the candles. I take pity on him.

I walk over to him and put my hand on his back and reach into the box and take out the stuffed frog.

"You're getting rid of that?"

"No. Everything else in that box can go. We'll give it to charity."

He closes his eyes and breathes an audible sigh of relief. "God, I love you." He opens his eyes and winks at me and grabs the stuffed frog. "Are you sure about this, though?" He bounces it up and down as if it's hopping.

"Don't press your luck." I take the frog back and smile up at him. "We haven't gone through your stuff yet."

"My stuff?" His eyes widen. Clearly the fact that he's going to have to shift his stuff to make room for mine has not occurred to him. Figures.

I grin and go back to my packing. I hear him mumble something about getting Robert on his side. Well, if my mother doesn't distract my father, having Patrick try to rope him into conversations about domestic situations should send him running in the other direction quick enough.


End file.
